Wait Until We're Ready
by as giants do
Summary: Sequel to "Those who Favour Fire". A handful of years changes nothing in Tulsa, Oklahoma: there's still a war, people are still dying, and we're all still desperate. Until we realize we have something to fight for.
1. prologue

_Told you I had a plan for a sequel. :) and I am super stoked to write it, which is why the prologue is up so quickly haha. So I hope you enjoy! I'm going to try to tie up a couple loose ends I noticed as well, so hopefully everything sort of works together and makes some sense. If there's anything you want to see expanded on, or explained, or ANYTHING from Those who Favour Fire, just message me and I'll see what I can do! xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>If we wait until we're ready, we'll be waiting for the rest of our lives.<br>_– Lemony Snicket

There was blood and sweat, and enough tears to fill a bell jar, but on the sixteenth of April, 1968, a five pound, four ounce baby girl was born with a tiny skiff of blonde hair and big, round eyes like the ocean at midnight. Her father wasn't there, he didn't even know that today was her birthday, but her uncle was at the bedside to cut the cord, and her mother's best friend had held her mother's hand through the entire six-hour ordeal.

When she sucked in air and cried out, weak and rough and strangled, but a cry nonetheless, her mother cried. But this time she was happy, happier than she'd ever been in her life, because this was her _daughter,_ and she was somebody's mother, and it was like an anchor in her chest and the end was that baby across the hospital room getting wiped down and wrapped up in a soft beige blanket.

"She looks just like you," Mark muttered, watching Ruby stroke the sleepy baby's cheek with the back of her finger.

Sophie could do nothing but stare into her baby's face and study her: her eyes and little nose, tiny pink tongue peeking out from barely parted lips – she could do nothing but stare into her perfect, beautiful, miraculous child's face and disagree with Mark. This baby barely looked like her at all.

No, she was the mirror image of Timothy Shepard.


	2. for all these times

_Not my best, sorry! But getting into the swing of a new story and matured characters after they were children last time I wrote them is gonna take me a second, haha. so bear with me! xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>Part of where you're going<br>is knowing where you're coming from _

He put on a crisp white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and let his sister help him with a pale blue necktie. His jeans were faded, old and beat up but freshly laundered, and he'd shined his shoes last night. Even his hair was greased back nicely, though greased hair had gone out of style a few years ago. It was the only part of his past that he could hold onto with such a solid, certain grasp that he just couldn't give it up.

"You look good," Sophie said, patting him on the shoulder. She was still so small and skinny; it was hard to believe that she'd aged at all in the past seven years. Her face had hardly changed. His, however, was a stranger's in the mirror – lined and paler, with a constant five o'clock shadow, messier hair, bags under his eyes any hour of the day. Life hadn't been good to Joel Baker and it showed.

"Wish me luck." He hugged his sister and patted the head of the little tanned girl scribbling with crayons on the floor. She was real Italian looking, that kid – light, golden skin and shiny brown hair, pin-straight. Then again, with the dark, curly hair and easy summer tans those boys had, Joel wouldn't doubt that they had some Italian or Spanish in them.

"Bye Uncle Joel," Alexa said absently, not looking up from her picture.

He needed a better job. He felt like a sponge, making minimum wage – two dollars ten – when Sophie was bringing home almost two dollars more than that. A gasoline station just wasn't cutting it anymore, so although he appreciated them rehiring him after the mess that had been his life and job skills seven years back, he needed something else.

Before his interview he stopped off at the east side cemetery to drop off a stunningly colourful bouquet of wildflowers that Alexa had brought home from school yesterday. The entire Brumly gang had pooled their resources together to get a real headstone, directly in the heart of the overgrown, wilted graveyard. He put the bunch of flowers – tied together with a little piece of pink ribbon – onto the grass, said a short prayer, and kneeled down to kiss her name on the granite slab pressed into the earth.

_ROBIN JULIA BAKER  
>11 September, 1958 – 3 July, 1967 <em>

_Not enough years in your life  
>too much life in your years. <em>

__**x x x  
><strong>

Sophie sat on the little bed – white wood frame, pink and white sheets – and watched Alexa dress herself carefully in front of the full mirror mounted on the wall. The room used to be Robin's, but when Sophie hit six months pregnant Joel finally decided that they would really need the space, and cleared out all Robin's things, bought all new furniture, and painted the walls sunny yellow. At first it was cribs and high chairs and sleepers and floor toys; then slowly it transformed to a real bed, and big girl clothes in the closet, a desk in the corner piled with papers and pencils and crayons; then there were books on the bookshelf that she'd picked out herself and clothes specially for school; and finally last month, Dana painted a big mural on the wall of Alice and her adventures in Wonderland, chatting to the Cheshire Cat grinning in the tree, and all around it the quote,

"_But I don't want to go among mad people," Alice remarked._

_ "Oh, you ca'n't help that," said the Cat: "we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."_

It was Alexa's favourite story, and the painting – which was beautiful and elegant and which Dana had done for free – had made her giddy and giggling for a week at least. She was more excited about that then she was about buying clothes and supplies for her first day of second grade, which began today.

The reflection of Alexa's face that Sophie could see was smiling and excited. She had her mother's smile in her father's face – a father who didn't even know she existed. The only ones who knew Alexa's father were Joel, Mark, and Ruby, and they weren't about to tell anyone. Not to mention that she hadn't seen either of the Shepard boys since the day she'd slapped Curly's face in the rain and told him she never wanted to see him again. His pupils had been hugely dilated – he'd proposed because he was just a high teenage kid faced with a situation he didn't know how to handle.

But he was in prison now for a string of armed drugstore robberies, and Tim had disappeared off the face of the earth around the same time, and she'd only found out she was pregnant at all three weeks after the last time she'd seen them. It was better this way. Even with the gangs dead and jumpings reserved mainly for gays, coloured folks (by hard core racists) and muggings, Sophie knew that nobody would have stepped up to the plate for the beautiful girl tugging on white tights with her butt on the wood floor.

Sometimes, especially lately, Alexa asked questions about her father: who was he? Why wasn't he there? Did he not love her? What was his and mommy's story? But Sophie brushed them off for later. How could she explain any of that to a seven year old?

Alexa had gotten the tights up under her dress – red, white, and purple plaid sleeveless V-neck knit with a white long-sleeve blouse underneath, an outfit which she had spent an hour picking out – and clipped the straps on her black maryjanes closed. She ran over to Sophie with a brush in her hand and said loudly and excitedly, "mommy can you brush my hair?"

They'd already brushed her tummy-length locks three times, but Sophie took the brush anyway. That was part of being a mother, and she'd been one for seven years. She still wasn't used to it, either – used to this little girl who relied on her for life, love, and company, and who would love her unconditionally no matter if she said otherwise when she was mad or upset. Fifteen was too young to have to grow up, but she'd done it – with a lot of help from Joel and Ruby – and now her daughter was beginning second grade, and was beautiful and healthy and happy and had everything she needed. Everything except a daddy.

"Come on," Sophie finally said, setting the hairbrush down on the bed and standing up with her hands rested lightly on Alexa's thin little shoulders. "Did you brush your teeth after breakfast?"

Alexa twirled around and smiled big, showing off a mouth full of clean, white baby teeth. One on the bottom was a little loose and she couldn't resist pushing at it with her tongue to make it wiggle at people.

Sophie laughed, "Okay, okay, get your book bag and let's go."

For most of the walk in the weak morning sunlight, Alexa ran ahead to pick at flowers and wave at the neighbours. When they crossed the street she stopped and waited and held Sophie's hand, but then she'd dash ahead again and skip through a hopscotch drawn in sidewalk chalk at the end of someone's driveway.

This was a walk Sophie had done a million times. She'd had her first kiss with Curly in the public park just up ahead, and beyond that, in the elementary school playground was where they'd had their first real conversation, and where she'd broken up with Mark. It was also the first – and only – place she'd fallen and broken her arm.

Where Hogan's on the Ribbon used to be the middle school hangout, now it was a place called Benny's where they played pool and got sodas. Her elementary school friend Ponyboy Curtis worked there now – last she'd heard, his brother had died in the war and he'd moved out on his own. They still talked sometimes. He came to all of Alexa's birthday parties.

The drive-in was still a hot spot but she never went there anymore, choosing instead to take Alexa to the movie house. A nightly double wasn't suitable for a kid, and she never got a night off because she couldn't pay for a babysitter, so she just avoided it – happily. When she thought of the drive-in, all she could feel was her neck against Tim Shepard's arm.

**x x x**

"Shit," Joel breathed through clenched teeth, slamming his hand on the steering wheel. "Shit, shit shit!" He lit a cigarette and peeled out of the parking lot, spitting up gravel. The job interview had crashed hard, because _Hadley's Cycles_ was a business started and owned by Shepard's former man Russell Hadley. Even years after there was still a grudge.

On his way back into town, he cruised by the prison. Freddy wasn't there anymore, he was in a state penitentiary now, but that's where he'd gone the night that he shot Robin to death. She'd bled out before he could even think, and Freddy had fled, and Joel's shoulder hurt so bad … It still hurt sometimes. And he had a little bullet-shaped scar on the front and back where it had sailed through him, where he had failed to protect his little girl.

Sometimes Freddy wrote to him, but he never opened the letters. He'd read the first one, years back when Sophie was still pregnant and Joel just lied out on his bed and smoked and filled up the entire room with the smell and taste and yellowed the walls. It was just a bunch of anger, calling him a faggot and a queer and that he would go to Hell and it was his fault, all his fault that Robin was dead.

But he wasn't gay. Maybe it had just been Freddy, his strength and power, maybe it had never been a crush at all, just admiration that he hadn't known how to interpret. Because he'd had girlfriends since, and he'd been happy with all of them, and been intimate with them too without problem. It was Freddy who had the problem … Freddy was the one who had cracked and gone mad when Joel had rejected him.

"Life doesn't always make sense, man."

He'd picked up Mark from home and recited his musings to him. Mark knew everything – things not even his sister knew – and had been a real rock during trying times. They'd fallen apart when the gangs were at their height, but now they were dead and there was no one to fight, and they needed each other. The Brumly vs. Shepard war had never really come to a peak; it just fizzled out and died without even a rumble.

He'd grown a beard, Mark had, but unlike Joel's dirty jaw shadow, Mark's looked trimmed and full and scholarly. It curved with his jawline and had a nice mustache too, and would look perfectly at home in the classroom when Mark finally got his teaching degree. He was going places, and so was his sister, who was doing nursing. Joel was at a dead end.

Mark tactfully changed the subject as Joel's face began to cloud over with his thoughts. "Is Sophie still playing her guitar?" She'd gotten it for a joint Christmas-and-birthday present last year and had been learning faithfully ever since. She'd taken a couple voice lessons too and was on her way to becoming quite talented.

"Yeah," Joel said, flicking his cigarette butt out the window. "Alexa sings with her sometimes, but it's more like yellin'. Playin' out on the front porch like –"

"Don't say _niggers_," Mark cut in. He'd gotten real politically correct since being in school. He even spoke better now; spoke like Sophie and the rich kids. Joel didn't like it much. He had his hair cut short, no more flopping into his face, looking all of his very dignified twenty-seven years.

The rest of the ride to the Dairy Queen on the Ribbon was quiet, but when they got out Mark put his hand on Joel's shoulder and handed him another cigarette, and Joel bought Mark's burger, and when he dropped Mark off at the college they hugged a bit in the car and Joel almost started to tear up again. He was being a real big baby lately, but Mark just messed up his oily hair and didn't say a word.

**x x x**

The bell wasn't due to ring for twenty more minutes, but Alexa insisted that Sophie stay and wait until she went inside, just in case. Sophie had a sneaking suspicion that she just needed someone to watch her book bag though, as Alexa tossed it at Sophie's feet and dashed off to meet her friends on the playground as soon as they got through the fence. Her long hair fluttered behind her like a banner and Sophie mused how Alexa might like a haircut.

Sophie still wore her own hair long – to her butt – but she'd cut her bangs short and straight across her forehead, which made her look just a little bit older and mature. It was thick and messy, just as bad as before, with curls and waves and pin-straight parts wherever it felt like. She wore mascara on her eyes every day though, that was new, and for work she wore dresses or nice skirts that went halfway down her thighs.

She worked at the local walk-in clinic, a nine-to-five weekday job that never left her wanting for money or daycare services. It was just as well to Alexa to be left playing with friends until five, or she'd skip over after school to the clinic and do homework on the floor quietly for a while. Occasionally Dana would pick her up and take her out shopping or to get ice cream, or to go swimming in her own pool at the house she shared with her wealthy doctor of a husband.

Laura had gotten James in the end, but it had been a bittersweet victory – he was in prison almost all the time and she was a stripper to make ends meet and keep her drug habit happy. She'd had a baby not long after Sophie, but the State had taken him away.

A girl with a dark pixie cut came to stand beside Sophie by the opening in the fence. She kissed the forehead of the boy hand-in-hand with her, and he dashed off to join the games, black curly mop of hair bouncing.

"His first day of school," she said, smiling a little sadly. Sophie knew that smile; Alexa had grown up too fast, too. "Kindergarten."

"Mine's grade two," Sophie supplied, pointing over to where Alexa was swinging as high as her thin little legs could pump her.

"Grade two …" the girl breathed curiously, making Sophie look over with a cocked eyebrow. The tall, tanned girl beside her looked so familiar, her long nose and football-shaped eyes. The girl looked back at her studiously, then announced, "did'ya get taller?"

"Uh …" she wasn't really sure how to answer that. She wasn't even sure if she knew this chick, and definitely not from when, if she did at all. "I'm five foot four now …"

The girl nodded. "Tim's back in town, y'know."

Oh. Sophie looked away nervously. She didn't know Angela Shepard had a kid.

"Is he?" she asked politely. "Where was he?"

"Texas."

"Oh." The answer made her freeze up a little, but she brushed it off. Texas was a big place and there were a lot of reasons people came and went. They came for rodeos, they went to rape little girls by the river and destroy their lives forever.

"So, she's seven?" The whole conversation was awkwardly formal, and Sophie could tell that Angela didn't think much at all of her. She just couldn't keep from getting her nose in other people's business, especially _this _business.

Very quickly, Sophie said, "She's not Tim's."

"I ain't stupid, Baker," Angela replied in the same stiff, friendly tone. "You didn't exactly get around back then."

Sophie couldn't deny that. She didn't know that Tim had told his sister what they'd done, but she knew that word got around in Tulsa with the kids, and if she'd ever slept with anyone else the whole town would know about it.

She'd tried again with Mark a few years back, and they'd slept together, but the whole thing had just been an awkward throwback to 1967 and they gave it up pretty quick. But besides that, and the summer night with Tim, she hadn't been with anybody. Boys weren't exactly jumping to date an unwed mother who'd gotten pregnant at fourteen. It wasn't something you'd put on a resume: twenty-two with a seven year old. She wasn't ashamed, but everyone else was.

So she changed her tactic. "Don't tell him. Please. He wouldn't want to know. He's no daddy."

"I ain't gonna say nothin'," Angela said, but Sophie wasn't reassured. "But he ain't stupid either. When he sees her …"

Sophie cut in, "Well maybe he isn't going to see her at all."

Angela shrugged. "Good luck." Then she waved goodbye to her curly-headed son and walked off just as the first bell rang.

Alexa came running over to grab her book bag and get a kiss on the cheek. "Have an awesome day, baby." She gave her an extra-long, tight hug before letting her go to run to the door, shouting, "bye!" over her shoulder.

She couldn't imagine introducing her to Tim. She couldn't see Tim taking her to school, or helping plan her birthday party, or having her for the weekend. Alexa would be so scared of him.

Sophie stayed standing by the fence for a few more minutes, until the second bell rang at eight thirty and she had to get going or she wouldn't make it to the clinic by nine. She didn't catch a glimpse of Tim Shepard anywhere, and hoped that it would stay like that forever.


	3. liar liar

_I think I might be getting the hang of this :) so I hope you all like it! There's going to be a lot more novel characters in this one, some of the boys from The Outsiders and maybe even some That Was Then, This is Now action. It's in the Rumble Fish era, so possibly even that, too. ALSO if anyone is curious, in my head Alexa looks entirely like Alexa Narvaez from realitychangers on YouTube (but with blue eyes), so check them out if you're curious, or keep thinking of Alexa in your mind however you want her. As always, review, PLEASE good or bad. xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>Tell me why these roads keep leading<br>leading you right back to me_

As far as jobs went, there weren't many that would take a dropout like Joel, who still put grease in his hair and only shaved once a week at the most. His clothes weren't new, because Sophie and Alexa needed it more, and he had gotten uglier. Working in the back of a shop was fine and dandy, where he could fix cars and no one would see him, but not a sane employer put Joel Baker out in the front. And that was where all the jobs were.

Steve Randle looked close to throwing a wrench at him, the amount he was pausing to think and wallow. Steve was a lot more handsome than Joel, but his passion was cars – he could turn one inside out and take away all its parts and still make it purr like a kitten. That's why they kept him in the garage. He was older now; he'd been right in the middle when the greaser-soc war had peaked and blew up, and then he'd watched his best friend get gunned down in Vietnam. He was quiet.

"Yeah, yeah," Joel muttered, picking up a rag and wiping the sweat off his forehead. In the afternoon the sun turned the garage into a sauna, especially in August and early September when the temperature peaked, before dropping down for fall around the second week of school.

Joel tried to make conversation occasionally. "Hear about that guy over the weekend, locked his kids in the car and turned the engine on?" but Steve never took the bait. It made for very quiet days, long and hot and in the end he got a lousy paycheque that couldn't feed his family. Dad wasn't helping out anymore; his last great donation had been five hundred dollars on Alexa's first birthday. That had dried up fast.

A quick glance at the clock through all the sparks Steve was making told Joel that it was twelve-thirty – Sophie's lunch break. Usually she walked over to the diner across the street from the DX so she could eat with Joel, who would take his own break at the same time.

"I'm goin' for lunch," he yelled, dropping his gloves and slipping out the door. Steve never took a lunch break. Steve never took any kind of break that Joel could see – no drinks, no bathroom, nothing but work and more work and sometimes he filled a gas tank or two when it was busy. Sometimes Joel wondered if he had any extracurricular thoughts at all.

Sophie was sitting in a booth already when Joel came in, looking all fancy in her blouse, and a white skirt with big rose patterns. She had two pieces of hair from the front pulled and braided down the back, and the whole effect looked quite professional. She was so different now from the little girl in shorts and tee shirts with Felix the Cat on them, it almost made him sick with nostalgia. He was twenty-seven and still not ready to grow up yet.

He ordered a Coke and hamburger at the counter, then went to sit with his little sister, who was sipping on a cherry Sprite with lemon and hate a plate of fries in front of her. Usually she never ate at lunch – she really didn't cost much in the groceries department – but the salt on her fingers and the furrow in her brow told him that something wasn't okay.

She didn't give him any time to ask. The minute he sat down she opened her mouth and blurted out, "I saw Angela Shepard today. She said that Tim's back."

Joel stole a fry off the plate. "So?"

Sophie's mouth gaped open. "What do you mean, _so_?" she spluttered. "I had his baby!"

"He don't know that, Soph," Joel shrugged. "And it ain't like he's gonna want anything to do with her if he does. He ain't gonna wanna be nobody's father."

She wanted to fight back, but didn't, and filled her mouth with Sprite instead. Those were her exact thoughts out loud, but she couldn't help but to expect the worst. What if he hated her for this? Did she care? He wouldn't think twice about her, probably didn't even remember her name, but would a daughter change all of that? Angela seemed to think so, but what did she know about anything? She was already married.

Joel's burger was delivered to the table, along with his drink, and he started shoving the food into his mouth as fast as he could. His lunch breaks were a lot shorter than hers, and he hadn't had time for breakfast because of the interview.

"You still doin' that charity thing?" Joel asked conversationally, trying to take Sophie's mind off Tim and all the problems he'd caused in her life. Him and his brother were just trouble, and if he ever saw either of them again he was going to beat their faces in for the shit they'd put his sister through.

Sophie nodded with a mouthful of fries. Ever since her performance in Hamlet when she was young – which had gone amazingly – she'd been interested in the whole circuit of acting, singing, and dancing. She'd done a few musicals since, and this weekend was a concert of sorts, with loads of local artists singing and dancing for donations to the animal shelter. Sophie had a couple original songs planned with her guitar, and two Beatles songs that Alexa was going to sing with her.

"I gotta get back to work." Joel stood up and threw a few coins onto the Formica tabletop. "Want me to pick Alexa up after school? I can take the day early …"

Sophie shook her head. "Nah. You need the money, Alexa will be fine."

Joel shrugged. The school was only twenty minutes from the clinic, but Sophie's worries had wormed into his head a little. Did parents just know their children? If Tim saw her, would he know? Would it matter?

"See ya."

Sophie watched him go in silence, calmer, as if all her worries were pushed over onto Joel.

**x x x**

The little girl would take a step, then skip, then stop entirely and look around. Then another step and skip, and a full stop to look around. Once she bent down to pick a few flowers and pull their petals off, singing a little rhyme as she worked, then she would drop the stem and keep going.

She had extremely long hair that was very straight and blew out behind her when the wind picked up a little. Her smile was big and true, nothing hidden behind her bright eyes, no scars on her golden skin. She looked six or seven, maybe a little bit older, and moved with the confidence of an only child. She had no one to fight for the spotlight with, like he'd had to.

He felt a little creepy, sitting on the hood of his car watching this little girl bounce down the sidewalk. But she exuded pure, childish innocence, something he'd had to give up when he wasn't even her age yet. She reminded him a bit of his sister, but her hair was lighter, her nose much smaller. The eyes, though – they were exactly the same dark, navy blue.

The little girl looked both ways before dashing across the street, her book bag bouncing with a strap too loose, then disappeared into the glass door of the free clinic where her mother or father must work. She came from a good home, with both parents and probably even grandparents, he could see it in her fearless, careless face. Nothing was wrong in her world.

Curly Shepard dropped his cigarette on the ground and stubbed it out with his tennis shoe as he hopped off the car then slid behind the wheel. The air was cooling down in the late afternoon, but he kept the window rolled down as he cruised slowly out of the parking lot. It was good to be back in Tulsa, after going prison to prison to prison. It was nice to be living at home again, with just his mother and step-father, because God knew where Tim was and Angel was living with her husband and baby now.

He was clean now, too. Off all the drugs he'd been on that had made him fall for that stuck-up girl with the white-blonde hair. He couldn't even remember her name.

**x x x**

"Hey, baby." Sophie put her arm around Alexa's waist and kissed her cheek. "How was school?"

"Good," Alexa reported, digging through her bag. "We made handprints!" She pulled out the thick paper with two drippy green paint prints of Alexa's hands on the front. On the back she'd written her name in crayon, big and messy but legible enough. "Can we put it on the wall?"

They'd dedicated a wall of the kitchen to taping up all of Alexa's artwork and A+ spelling tests and awards from school. It was right between the fridge and the window, too big to leave blank but too thin to put any appliances or chests.

"Of course we can. Do you have homework?"

With a big, cheeky grin, Alexa said, "nope! But I have a book." And she pulled a thin novel about a pony out of her bag and put the handprints back in. She'd learned to read in Kindergarten and was a little bit ahead of all the other kids in her class. She was doing poorly at math, though. Uncle Mark had been doing problems with her every night but her improvement was a snail's pace.

She plopped herself down on a chair beside Sophie – who was the only one behind the desk on her shifts – and let the book flop open on the surface. She started reading three pages in, skimming her finger under the words so fast and giggling, just to be silly.

Sophie played along with Alexa's little joke for a while – "oh wow, where'd you learn to read that fast?" which just made her laugh harder – until a middle aged woman with a big beehive hairdo came up to the counter and cleared her throat.

"Hello," Sophie said with a smile, "what can I do for you?"

"Oh, is that your sister?" the fat lady cooed, "You look so much alike."

Sophie laughed good-naturedly. "No, she's my daughter."

The woman cleared her throat gruffly. "I need to make an appointment with the doctor."

Sophie was used to this kind of reaction from anyone who could count. She always chose to ignore it, though – she expected it, even. If her mother were still around she would have shipped Sophie off to live with her aunt in Iowa. Maybe it was a bit of a blessing that her mother was comatose in the asylum. She'd gotten used to it, because she'd never been that great of a mother in the first place.

"This is a walk-in clinic, ma'am," Sophie explained politely. "We don't make appointments, you just come in and wait and the doctor will see you when he can."

"Well how will he know I'm waiting if I don't have an appointment?" She spoke very carefully, as if she needed to think very hard about what she wanted to say before she said it. Her clothes were inexpensive but a bold attempt to be upscale and fashionable. This lady didn't like being poor, didn't like where she was from. Well, welcome to the club, woman.

Sophie pointed over to the chairs, half full of injured or sick men and women. "By waiting in the waiting room."

"That's stupid," she snapped, "he's not going to know I'm waiting for him. I'm more important than everyone else here. I have a _headache_."

With a strained smile, Sophie said, "I can get you some pills for that, ma'am."

"No!" she squawked. "I have to see the damn doctor!"

Alexa slid off her seat and crawled under the desk, tugging her bag behind her. She hated when people yelled like that, angry and slamming their hands on things like she was banging her costume-jewellery-encrusted hand on the counter.

"Ma'am, please don't yell –"

"I want to see your manager!"

So she got her manager.

**x x x**

"Ha!" Dana clapped her hands, laughing heartily. "I can't believe that."

"Mr Summers got her in right away," Sophie told, opening her hand so Alexa could slip hers in. She was sleepy and hungry and wanted to be carried, but neither Dana nor Sophie had that much strength or energy to hold her all the way to the row house.

Dana had come by with some papers from her husband for the clinic doctor to sign, then decided to walk back with Sophie and Alexa to their house where she'd left her car after a night of drinking at the bar just down the street last night. She and her husband had taken a cab home, then he'd driven to work in his car and she'd taken the bus there around noon to run errands for him that he had no time for and his secretary was too stupid to successfully do.

"Can't believe some people are so crazy." Dana shook her head, her earrings glittering in the sun. They were real diamonds. Dana had done so well for herself, and Laura was sleeping in alleyways most of the time, but Sophie hadn't moved an inch. Even Ruby, though she was still living in the Brumly row houses, was going to college and becoming a nurse. She was somebody. Sophie was just a mother – that was her entire life, her title, how everyone talked about her. She loved Alexa more than anything, but sometimes, when she was lying in bed alone at night, she wished that she could be doing more with her life.

Alexa slipped her hand out of Sophie's and ran ahead when their house came into view. Joel was sitting outside on the porch smoking a cigarette, but he stubbed it out when he saw his niece barrelling at him.

"Hey baby girl!" he yelled, coming down the steps so he could pick her up at the bottom and swing her around.

"Hey baby girl!" he yelled, coming down the steps so he could pick her up at the bottom and swing her around. He looked trashed and strung out, with his tired eyes and messy hair. It was greased but wind ruffled and sloppy.

Tim still wore hair oil too, but his was nicely parted in a very debonair comb over that didn't much at all go with his white wife beater and blue jeans. He was covered up and down with tattoos now, but beyond that, Tim Shepard looked exactly the same as when he left years ago: his nose was still crooked from multiple breaks, there was still a scar on his face, and he was still tall and lean. He hadn't even grown any facial hair, even though it was big nowadays and almost everyone had a mustache at least.

He wondered who Baker had had a kid with. She didn't look much like him, but maybe he'd taken a dip in a foreign pool.

A minute later, with her long blonde hair pulled back and skirt professional and flattering on that little waist, came Sophie Baker, side-by-side with a tall, high-heeled chick decked out in diamonds – she was one of the girls Sophie used to spend time with, one of the cousins. He vaguely recognized her. Hell, he barely recognized Sophie, looking mature and grown up but still childish and glowing in the face. She was a little taller. She was beautiful still.

She and her friend followed behind the little girl up the stairs. He could hear her shouting about hanging up a picture somewhere, then the door swung shut and Joel lit up another cigarette, and Tim got out of the T Bird and stepped across the street.

"Hey, Baker," he called when he was close enough. Joel spun around and stiffened up at the sight of him. Tim watched his hands clench and almost crush the cancer stick. But he ignored it. "I hear you're lookin' for a job." He'd heard it from Steve Randle when he'd stopped by with the T Bird for a tune up last night. They were still friends of sorts, still on the same team. They both knew how it felt to lose their best friend now – Steve and Soda, Tim and Dally.

"I ain't lookin' for nothin' from you," Joel growled. "You're lucky I ain't puttin' you on your ass right now."

Tim put up his hands in mock surrender. "I ain't lookin' for a fight. I just got a job you might be interested in."

Against his better judgement, Joel loosened his fists and took a calming drag. "What is it?"

"Meet me down by the tracks tonight," he said lazily, lighting up his own cigarette. He'd been trying to quit, off and on, but Joel was blowing his smoke in Tim's face. "I'll tell ya there."

Joel nodded. He couldn't live off a dollar ten an hour. Whatever Tim was doing was sure to bring in extra on top of that, and Alexa would need new clothes soon, she was growing so quickly and was begging to take gymnastics classes down at the community center.

Tim shook his hand and left without a word, just in time for Alexa to poke her head out of the door and shout, "Hey! We're makin' cookies!"

"Cute kid," Tim said over his shoulder. He had to pretend not to hear, not to care, not to think at all about anything when Joel called back, "ain't mine. She's Sophie's."


	4. the a team

_I had to re-add the last chapter because of FF going all wonky, so hopefully it works now. Sorry guys! and hopefully THIS works too ... haha. Anyway, thank you SO MUCH to "Yehhhok" for the most amazing reviews of my life! And stop worrying so much about how often you review silly, because they're perfect and worth waiting for and make me very very happy! And I hope everyone else loves it and reviews make me very happy, so those would be nice too guys. I just really hope you enjoy it! xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>The worst things in life come free to us<br>'cause we're just under the upper hand  
>and go mad for a couple grams<em>

Nobody had noticed. Nobody had goddamn noticed, and he didn't notice it either, if you'd believe that. But of course you won't. Nobody in their right mind would believe that Curly Shepard had been taking drugs without even realizing it himself but he had been, and for a while. It started after he got out of the hospital from his "little run-in" with Butler, after his own brother had slept with his girl, after he didn't go home for a while. It was mostly LSD, but he'd injected a few things too, but those had been on purpose. The tongue stamps he didn't remember. He knew he'd been on them but he never remembered taking them, or where he got them from or even why. And then he'd fallen in love with the girl when his head was all dizzy and he'd fallen out of love just as easily when she'd slapped him across the cheek and left him down on his knee in the rain in July of 1967.

His mother and step-father were screaming a blue streak at home, throwing things and breaking dishes, so Curly slunk out and headed over to Angela's. She was married to a guy named Dick Tanner, who Curly didn't think much of at all but she seemed happy now. She had the baby she thought she'd had way back, and they were in love and had enough money to get by day after day – the real American dream, all right.

Angela welcomed him in happily, just glad to have some family back around, but Dick just nodded from his position on the couch in front of the television, a cigarette hanging from his lips. The kid was sitting beside him, all thick wrists and big mouth, clapping happily every time something happened on the screen. He thought the kid would be older by now but he was only about five.

"Hey, Joshua, come say hi to your uncle," Angela said, patting her thigh like she was calling a dog. Curly wasn't much interested in anything to do with him, he wasn't big on little kids, but the boy ignored his mama anyway and stuck right where he was on the couch. Angela shrugged with a little smile. She looked harried but happy, a way he'd never seen her before because Angela attracted trouble like a magnet. "He wouldn't say a word to Tim, either. Well, come on in. I got coffee in the kitchen."

She put a mug on the table and pushed him down into the chair by his shoulder. He didn't touch the cup.

"You say Tim's back?" he asked. He and his brother weren't on the best terms. Tim had gone out in a fist fight and not just two days after Curly hit up a dime store and got taken in, over and over again. He'd spent a good part of the last few years locked up, and the rest of it on the streets in a downward spiral. It was only recently he started to pick himself up and it was so far, so good. He drank a lot, though, had to replace one addiction with another or he'd never kick it.

"You didn't know?" Angela had both hands wrapped around her own mug. Her hair was still cut short, but it looked good on her. She was a real good looking kid. The whole family was, but Curly wouldn't admit that he knew that. Plus with his face all scarred up here, there, and everywhere he sure wasn't a sight for sore eyes anymore.

"We ain't talkin'," Curly said simply and she let it drop. There was no use pushing to get the story because he never talked. He liked to keep his personal business personal.

"So you seen your little tricky vicky lately?" Angela asked instead. She never liked that girl, small, pale, and fairylike, who played both her brothers and messed them right up. Seeing her that morning just solidified it, how much she couldn't stand the dumb broad. But she didn't want to start up more trouble for Tim, so she kept the baby story to herself, at least for now. Tim didn't need that kind of trouble in his life, not when it was so wobbly to start with.

"Nope," Curly said simply, "and I ain't gonna bother."

He hoped nobody ever said her name to him again, because he was trying so damn hard to forget it. To forget her. Sometimes he could go for weeks without thinking about her, then she'd sneak back into his mind like a parasite. Maybe they'd only known each other for a little while, gone out on a couple dates, but she'd consumed him like wildfire. Drugs or not, he'd fallen so hard in love he was surprised he was still alive for the days after she left him. But he could just about forget all that now, if he really tried. He could forget about Sophie sometimes.

**x x x**

The scent of chocolate chip cookie filled the kitchen as Sophie started dinner. Dana had stuck around at Alexa's request to bake, but at six thirty she had to leave to make a dinner date with her husband at seven.

Joel shrugged on his jeans jacket and pushed his feet into his motorcycle boots. He'd bought a second-hand bike last year and fixed it right up to be worth a good few hundred, but selling it wasn't part of his plan no matter how often Sophie pushed. She didn't like motorcycles – unsafe, dangerous, and injuries were words that came out of her mouth in an almost constant refrain whenever he brought it up. So he tried not to.

When he came out into the kitchen, Sophie was at the stove stirring the contents of a large pot – chili. It smelled strange mixed with the cookies. Alexa was at the table doing the extra math that Mark had brought over yesterday. He would come by after dinner and have a cup of coffee and go over it with her, like every weekday. They'd started it last year and even carried it over into the summer, because as much as she hated math, she liked Uncle Mark so it evened out.

"Oh," Sophie said when she saw his jacket, "you're not going to be here for dinner? I made so much …"

"Leftovers, just put 'em in the fridge and I'll eat it when I get back," Joel said, snatching up his helmet from the coat rack near the front door. It was a small appeasement to his sister, though he rarely put it on his head once he was out.

"Where are you going at this time?" She looked out the window – the sky was darkening already, and falling fast. By eight o'clock it would be pitch dark and starry over Tulsa. Tim hadn't been very specific about time, but "tonight" to Joel meant dark, so he'd head out now and hang around until he came by.

"I got a handle on a new job," Joel admitted vaguely. "From a guy at the DX." A little white lie wouldn't hurt her, because she sure wouldn't like what he was really doing. Hell, he didn't even like it. Every sense in his body was screaming for him to pound Tim Shepard into the ground like a weed and leave him there to sprout, but he needed the money. _Alexa_ needed the money. And when it came to his niece – and to his sister – he'd put anything aside, because he'd already lost one and he wouldn't lose another.

**x x x**

There were six men expected to meet him down at the tracks. He was very unspecific about the time because he didn't want them all to arrive at once and flood him. It was a test, to see how they interpreted his instructions, how clever and punctual they could be, if they trusted him. He'd been down there since fifteen-to-six, just in case. He had a lot to mull over anyway.

He'd gone through half a pack of cigarettes as the sky darkened, going over the last few years of his life. He'd had a pretty bad falling out with Curly, fist fights and words and then pretending he didn't exist. It was so easy, going all over America, to forget about his brother. He'd even skipped over to California for a day to see why Sophie loved it so much. It did nothing for him, so he headed back east again.

Sometimes he'd call Angel from a pay phone, to keep updated about her life and her kid. He didn't care much about the little bugger but he liked to hear Angela talk and she'd go non-stop about him, she loved him so much. It was just good to hear a voice from home sometimes, and though they fought like mad and he hated pretty much every decision she made, she was his sister and he loved her all the same. He kind of had to. They were family.

Sophie, now that was a chick he thought about a lot. There was nothing special about her, nothing remarkable at all: immature, young, an absolute dreamer no matter how much she tried to act otherwise. She thought of ways out, of where she could go instead, of all the things she'd like to have if she could, and those were the thoughts of a dreamer, not a girl with her feet on the ground. She didn't even know herself, much less anyone else, or how the world worked. Sometimes he hated everything about her but he still couldn't get her out of his head because he had a little piece of her that she could never get back, never give to anyone else, that she couldn't even give to Curly and he'd been crazy over her. While some guys – and you'd think Tim was one of them – could do that every day of the week and not even bat an eyelash at it, Tim wasn't one of them. He didn't like taking girls' virginities, but he couldn't keep his hands off her.

And now he regretted it. Because what if that little kid was his? She was the right age … but no. Once you took a girl's virginity she didn't keep herself secret anymore, did she? Not from what Tim knew, that's for sure. For all he knew about _that_, the kid could be anyone's in town. She was how old now, twenty-one? Twenty-two? That was a long time to not sleep with anyone else.

So there was no use getting all worked up about it. The kid wasn't his, period.

Around seven, his men started showing up.

**x x x**

When Joel arrived, there were already four other men there, along with Tim, standing around an empty boxcar. He stopped his bike a few feet away and walked up to the group, and was introduced to the lot and shook hands with everybody. It was clear that Tim needed a team, and it made Joel feel a little better. If it had just been him and Tim, it probably would have resulted in a fight and no money at all because lately Joel had had a hell of a time controlling his anger. But this was an outfit, a little makeshift company, and according to Tim there was still one more to wait for.

The boys there already were all around Joel's age, or a little younger, but at least in their twenties. One he recognized being a former member of Shepard's gang – twenty-six year old Martin Hadley, who was supposed to be in college but explained that he was running out of cash, and Russell, his brother, wasn't feeling so generous anymore.

There was Christopher Greer, a twenty-four year old plumber whose father had lost his job and couldn't find another to support the whole family of six. Shawn Talbot was twenty-one but still fresh out of high school, not very clever but very passionate, and it was clear that he wouldn't be able to make an honest dollar in his life because nobody was about to hire an idiot like that. Darren Troy was a year older than Joel and had his own wife and kids to feed, with another on the way so his wife couldn't work anymore. He was a quiet guy, with a solid look about him, like a guy you'd never want to double cross but you could trust him with your wife, dog, and all the savings in your bank account.

They stood and talked for about an hour, getting restless and very well acquainted, because Tim insisted they wait for the last guy who was clearly taking his time but was crucial to the operation. Joel was having a pretty good time just shooting the shit with these guys, and sizing up Tim Shepard.

He wasn't the same as when he left, oh no. He was covered in tattoos and wore a heavy ring on his middle finger. He was even cooler than before, if that was possible, rarely letting any emotion show on his face like a statue. He'd seen a lot when he'd been gone, Joel could tell. He wasn't a guy you wanted around your niece though, no matter whose daddy he was. So Joel kept his mouth shut about it, didn't mention Sophie at all to the guys, even went as far as to tell them that he lived alone and needed the cash to support his ma in the hospital – a little bit true. Tim never said a thing about his lie, and for that he had to be thankful. Maybe Tim wanted to pretend that too – that Sophie didn't even exist to him.

Around eight thirty the short, very overweight young man came puffing down the tracks, a grey English driving cap on his sweaty hair. He shook hands all around and introduced himself as Brad Moore, and launched right into a big explanation on why he was here so late when everyone else had come right on time – at least that's what Tim called it. Some long-winded story about his older brother not letting him leave and dinner and a broken down car.

"You're twenty-five," Tim muttered, clearly unimpressed with the story. "When you gonna stop lettin' him boss you around?"

"When he ain't payin' my bills no more!" Brad piped.

They let him catch his breath before Tim got everyone's attention and launched into a very precise explanation of what was going to go down. He had all the details, and even a location that he didn't want to disclose until he was sure everyone was in for certain. He had dates, times, clients, plans, and even some money to get them started. Joel didn't like any of it, but he knew he'd be in from the moment Tim asked him in his driveway because he'd do anything, _anything_, for his girls.

All in all, it was a glorified crime ring. They'd be doing dealings with drugs, thefts, sometimes even hit jobs – "not murders," Tim assured, "just fights" – and everything in between. He said the money would start to flow in after the first week easily, and there was no way they'd get caught because "Brad here is payin' off any cops that matter" which was why he was very important to the whole deal. He was at a steady job making good money already which is why he could afford it, and had consented to taking a much smaller cut of the profits because of it. He was a huge airbag and didn't sound like he could keep much of a secret, but he sounded fair and Joel had to trust him if he wanted to be a part of this.

Tim had them all sign a typed contract – "for my own purposes, 'cause it ain't like I could take you to court" – then sent them on their way, promising to get in contact with each of them separately to tell them where their warehouse was and their next meeting time, which would be in it. There he'd set up a schedule and train everyone in their specific jobs and clarify anything. Then they'd get started.

When he started his bike, Joel's hands were shaking. The most illegal thing he'd ever done was fight and lift cigarettes sometimes when he was a lot younger. But this was something he wouldn't have to quit at the DX for, something he could probably keep from Sophie easy enough. He was counting on her being so excited about them having enough money to live that she wouldn't even ask where that cash was coming from.

**x x x**

At seven o'clock, Sophie sat on the toilet seat and read the newspaper while Alexa played in the bathtub, until she needed help washing her hair and was ready to get out. She said, "I want a haircut, mommy," while they were scrubbing it with shampoo. "It's too long."

Sophie smiled with relief, glad that she hadn't been the one to have to bring it up because up until tonight, she'd thought Alexa would be way too in love with her hair to ever cut it short. She would say she wanted to be a princess like Rapunzel from her storybook, and Rapunzel never cut her hair because it was magical, so Alexa's hair was magical too.

"Maybe Auntie Ruby will do it," Sophie suggested, "after dinner tomorrow." Ruby had been giving Sophie trims since they were eighteen and learned that Ruby had extremely steady hands. She'd need them to be a nurse anyway, and her drama-loving bird brain had matured into a much easier friend to have. She was still writing that silly autobiography though. She'd finally shown it to Sophie after Curly's arrest and the first doctor visit when she'd found out about the baby. It was basically a mix of Sophie, Laura, and Dana's life but with Ruby in the starring role of it all. It was very well written, she couldn't deny, but silly nonetheless because it was so dramatized and most of it was entirely made up.

Well, Sophie still hardly ate, so they all had something to hold onto from simpler times.

By eight o'clock Sophie was reading Alexa a bedtime story – _Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There _– cuddled up together on the little bed, Alexa's head on Sophie's shoulders and her eyes drooping. In the summer she'd been allowed to stay up until she was ready to go to bed on her own, as long as it was before ten thirty – because she was at that age that she demanded to be treated like the big kid she felt like she was – but she had school in the morning now so eight thirty was the set-in-stone bedtime; and sure enough, when the clock struck the half-hour, Alexa was fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with her knees almost all the way up to her chest and her hair in a French braid so it would be nice and wavy in the morning.

Then Sophie settled in with a cup of hot cocoa and an apple to watch late night television until Joel came home at almost midnight. Her cup was empty and core on the coffee table, and she was slumped over asleep when he walked through the door. Good, because he didn't want to deal with her questions tonight anyway. If she had any inkling what he'd just agreed to, or who he'd agreed to, she'd lose her head and scream herself hoarse at him. It would be the betrayal of the century, finding out he was working with Tim Shepard. And he was already realizing that telling Tim Alexa was Sophie's, not his, was a stupid idea. But what was done was done and he was dwelling on it much too much. For all Tim knew, the kid was Mark's or some other poor shmuck's, for God's sake.

As gently as possible, Joel picked Sophie up bridal-style and carried her to her bedroom, depositing her on the bed fully clothed. He tugged the blanket out from underneath her slowly, but she hardly stirred anyway, and just gave a little yawn and the flutter of eyelids when he covered her with it.

"Night, kiddo," he whispered, giving her a kiss on the forehead. She made a little pucker with her lips, as if to return it, but she didn't wake and for that he was thankful. In her sleep she didn't have to worry about anything at all. And he hoped that it would stay that way, that when Tim came to him with a location, Sophie was nowhere to be seen.

Before he went to bed himself, although he was worn out mentally and physically, Joel went back down the stairs and looked around at the house he'd spent his whole life in. The wallpaper was peeling and the kitchen floor was rolling up at the corners. The walls were cracked in some places and there was no heat for the winter, and it was just too small. Alexa's toys and crayons and books were spread out all over the living room floor, and probably in her room too. Wouldn't it be nice if she had a playroom, a place just for her and her toys that she could mess up all she wanted? Somewhere where no one would have to go and pick up all her toys – like Joel was doing right now, because he didn't want to step on them in the morning – because they weren't in anyone's way? And Sophie always wanted a bigger room, or a house with a bathroom on the main floor, not just upstairs. Joel wanted a house with a bathtub that was big enough for him.

A real house. Not a row house. Not walls he shared with the neighbours. A big yard for Alexa to play in, and maybe big enough that they could get a dog, a big, warm German shepherd to protect them. A safe place for Alexa to grow up.

He went to bed after all the toys and books and games were in the wooden toy chest that sat in the corner where it really didn't fit, but it couldn't go into Alexa's room either because her desk took up most of the free space. There was no free space here.

Really, there was just no free.


	5. something to say

_Their little criminal operation seems kinda flimsy and unrealistic, but come on, I am not part of nor have I ever been part of one. so I'm doing my best. Just deal with it, I'm just trying to go into as little detail with it as possible until I sort of get a handle on it. If there's anything you guys want to see more of or want clarified or anything, tell me and I'll see what I can do! I'm gonna try and get Sophie in a little more, obviously, as this story is supposed to be about her haha but Joel is just so fun right now and there's loads more going on with him. But I have a plan, never fear! As always, please review! Without reviews my blood dries up and I die. xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>He's got a thing about losing control<br>carries it a mile just to see how far he'll go_

After work on Tuesday, Sophie and Alexa took the bus over to the west side of town to see Dana in her three-storey estate. Dana's high heels click-clacked loudly on the marble floors as she strode through the spacious foyer, leading Sophie and Alexa through to the kitchen where she had some phone books stacked on a chair for Alexa to hop up on. Then she swung a sheet around her neck, grabbed the scissors, and began to cut.

Sophie sat at the table and watched with a smile. They went to Dana's often but she always felt awkward and out of place in such a pristine, expensive mansion. And Dana was always so perfectly put together in the highest quality fashions, and her home was spotless, and everything was just pricey and perfect. Sophie looked down at her flat shoes and made a mental note to buy a pair of nice, black heels with part of her next paycheque.

"How short, kiddo?" Dana asked when she clipped off a couple inches. She'd taken dictation courses when she met Dr. Andy Mercer, in an attempt to impress him, and they'd certainly worked. She still had a drawl, but it was mostly unnoticeable now and she sounded quite proper most of the time.

"To my shoulders!" Alexa cheered.

Dana looked to Sophie with raised eyebrows. "That short?"

Sophie shrugged. "It'll be easier to wash, anyway."

So Dana shrugged back and cut her hair into a bob that just brushed her shoulders, and bangs that she could sweep over to the side. Brown hair covered her kitchen floor like a carpet when Alexa hopped down from the chair and shook her head. Then she brushed her fingers through it once, twice very slowly … then a good hundred times more like an addiction.

"It's so light," she said happily, "and short!"

Dana held out her hand, palm flat up. "That'll be five dollars."

Sophie cocked her eyebrow and stared into Dana's face, admittedly a little nervous. She didn't have five dollars for a haircut! But then Dana began to laugh and clasped her hands together, "I'm just kidding! Gosh, Sophie."

"Ha," Sophie said a little too humourously. It was all good and well for Dana to joke about money, but coming here just reminded her even more that she didn't have any.

Dana crossed her arms, her face suddenly serious. "Soph, you know that if you ever need a little extra cash …" she trailed off. Sophie shook her head.

"No, we're fine. It's fine. Joel's looking for a better job, and I think I might be getting a raise soon …"

"Auntie Dana!" Alexa shouted, running back into the kitchen from the bathroom where she'd been admiring her new 'do, successfully ending the awkward conversation. "Can I go swimming?"

"Not today, baby," Sophie said, picking her daughter's book bag from the floor where she'd dropped it. "We have to go make dinner, okay? And your bathing suit is at home."

"Aww," she pouted, shuffling her feet over to take her bag back and put it on her shoulder. Then she dragged herself into the foyer and out the door without even waiting for her mother, but she wouldn't go further than the driveway without Sophie.

"I mean it, Soph. About the money."

"I know," Sophie said, unable to make eye contact. "So do I."

**x x x**

Curly was late, Tim was early. The older Shepard was already sitting at a table with a lit cigarette and an untouched steak sandwich, waiting patiently. Curly came in around twenty minutes past three, ordered a burger and fries and a Coke, before sliding into the chair across. The Dairy Queen was relatively dead because nobody drove the Ribbon anymore, especially in the middle of the afternoon.

Tim passed his brother a cigarette, and Curly lit it with his own match. "Didn't know you was back," he commented distantly.

"Didn't know you'd been released," Tim retorted, and Curly nodded a checkmate. His brother looked stupid all coated in ink. The hair looked good, though; Curly kept his greased too, but pushed back like they all used to. He'd gotten skinnier but not taller, Curly had, whereas Tim had bulked out ever so slightly and grown an inch or two.

They didn't look so identical anymore.

"I got a business going," Tim started immediately. There was no need for niceties, for apologies or hugs or "how have you been"s. Curly was back and town and Tim was back and town and he could always use more guys, and if he could trust anyone he figured he could trust his brother no matter what had happened in the past. They were adults now. Things had changed for Tim.

Nothing had really changed for Curly.

"And what's that gotta do with me?" Curly asked, feigning ignorance and filling his mouth with burger and pop.

Tim wanted to reach out and smack him. "Gotta do with _take the damn job or fuck off_," he said, sucking hard on the cigarette and blowing the smoke towards Curly's face. He just kept eating, didn't even bother to look up until his mouth was empty and he'd finished his own cigarette, which had been burning down between his fingers while he held his food.

"Alright," he finally agreed, nodding a little. "Alright. Who else in on it?"

Tim went through the list. "And more if I can. Seven ain't really enough to do jack."

Curly knew all those names. Curly knew Brad pretty well, met Christopher on more than one occasion, and had been close with Martin once upon a time. Baker he knew like a knife to the face. But he needed the money, not that he'd admit that to Tim.

He scribbled on a napkin the address of the warehouse he'd procured. It all felt very Mystery Movie Hour to Curly, but he didn't say a word about that either. It made sense to run the business well out of town, in a large building where the cops didn't circle. But still … Mystery Hour.

"Ten tonight," Tim said, pulling some bills out of his pocket and dropping them on the table, enough for both Curly and himself. "See anyone, tell 'em in case I don't."

Curly just nodded again, feeling a serious sense of foreboding at working under his brother again.

**x x x**

Alexa was well over swimming when she burst through the front door. Uncle Mark hadn't come over last night but he'd been sitting on the front porch when Sophie and Alexa had come home and explained that he'd been so tied up in his own work that he'd just forgotten entirely.

"Look at my new haircut!" Alexa yelled excitedly, spinning around in a circle in the living room so Mark could admire her new bob. "Auntie Dana did it."

Mark swung Alexa up onto his back and carried her into the kitchen. "Looks very grown up," he said, which made her giggle because all she wanted lately was to be treated like a grown-up. She even insisted that Sophie let her walk to school alone, but she didn't want to give that little time up with her daughter in the morning, so that was a no-go at least for a while.

He deposited Alexa on a kitchen chair and pulled some new math sheets out of his bag. "Did you finish the others last night?"

"Yeah! Mommy, where are they?"

"Upstairs," Sophie said, taking the big pot of chili out of the fridge to recook over the stove. Alexa hopped out of her seat and ran upstairs, using both her feet and hands on the steps up, to get them.

"So how's school going?" Sophie asked conversationally while Mark sharpened a pencil with his pocket knife.

Mark said, "Pretty good, thanks. Your job alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's not bad."

Sometimes being around Mark was really awkward. All she could think of was how it felt like they were married now, with her making dinner and him helping Alexa with her schoolwork, just like a father would if she had one. Joel wasn't home yet even though he got off work a little before she did, but that wasn't rare. Often he would go to a bar just a few blocks away, one of a whole row of them. There was an empty bar there, where the owner had been shot in the head by Texans and no one had taken over the position, that Joel had wanted to buy for the longest time, ever since it went back to the bank, but he didn't have that kind of cash.

"I heard Tim Shepard's back," he commented conversationally. Sophie was spared having to reply by Alexa thumping back down the stairs, calling out, "I found it!"

"Do you think you did it all right?" Mark asked, holding out his hand to take the paper.

Happily, Alexa said, "Nope! But Uncle Mark, look!" and she pushed on a bottom tooth with her tongue, and it bowed like a soldier almost down flat on his face.

**x x x**

Joel didn't go home. After work he headed over to Raineys for a drink or five. He only managed to down a single beer though before Martin Hadley came strolling through the door and dropped right down into the bar stool beside at almost seven o'clock, at the same time that, a few blocks down, Sophie was dishing out chili for Mark, Alexa, and Ruby, who had stopped by when she got home and realized Mark wasn't there.

"Ten o'clock," Martin said. His voice was real low and soft, the soothing voice of a black jazz singer. Then he passed over a piece of paper with an address and short set of directions on it. "Only one door in the place, at the front, an' the gate'll be unlocked."

Joel nodded. This was sooner than he'd expected, just a day later. Clearly Tim was already all set up and ready if he was asking them to come right away. Well Joel was just fine with that, because that meant the money would be coming in starting next Tuesday, a week away, like Tim had said. He took the paper from the wooden bar and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans.

Martin stuck around to have a beer with him, but at seven thirty he left, giving Joel the instructions that Tim had given Curly, and the both of them had given everyone they found since: if you see anyone, tell them, just in case no one else has yet.

He didn't want to be drunk his first night on the job, so after his second beer Joel got up, paid the tender, and left on his bike. He'd been leaving the car in the garage more often lately, but once it got into October he'd have to bring it out again and put the bike away for a while. Part of him was hoping that the car lying around would encourage Sophie to go try for her license, but so far she didn't seem bothered about it. Everywhere she went was either in walking distance, or there was a bus that only cost fifteen cents each.

Joel went home first, to find a bowl of chili waiting for him at the table crowded with his sister and niece, Mark, and Ruby.

"Uncle Joel!" Immediately Alexa hopped down from the chair and rushed him at the front door. "I got a haircut, look!"

Joel ruffled it and used a very excited and surprised tone, the tone you reserve for children who are very excitable and must show you every discovery they make, "hey, that looks real good, Alexa! I almost didn't recognize you."

She giggled and smacked him on the arm. "Don't be silly." Grabbing his hand with both of hers, she backed into the kitchen tugging him along with her. "You're late for dinner! And my tooth is loose."

"Is it? I better go get my pliers then …"

Alexa gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head dramatically back and forth.

He sat down and finished his meal, chatted a little with everyone, but when Sophie took Alexa upstairs for her bath – at almost nine, an hour late for bedtime – Joel excused himself and walked with Mark and Ruby to the door. Then he left.

**x x x**

From the bathroom window Sophie could see Joel peeling out on his bike as the bathwater ran and Alexa wormed out of her dress and looked for her plastic toys under the cabinet. She guessed that this was the job he'd procured, the one he wasn't going to tell her because surely it was illegal and the less she knew, the better, because she worried about him. Well she was worrying anyway.

After a quick bath-and-bed routine, Sophie headed downstairs to clean up the dinner dishes and wipe up the kitchen. Then she took her guitar out onto the front porch – leaving the door open a crack in case Alexa woke up or starting calling for her for any reason – and sat down in the dark, with just the sliver of light from the living room a stripe on her back, and began to strum. She'd been practicing as much as she could, any song she could pick the chords out of, mostly Beatles songs but sometimes she wrote her own too. Sometimes, if she had a second alone, she even tried out a little Bob Dylan.

As she played, just aimless tunes, she thought of Alexa. She thought of Alexa's father and Alexa's uncle on that side, and this entire family she would never know. Somewhere she had a real aunt – although Sophie wasn't fond of Angela at all – and she had grandparents who she could actually meet, not one off getting rich and another in a crazy house all buried in her own head.

Like girls do – though girls her age really should know better – she imagined what life would have been like if she'd said yes to Curly's stupid proposal. They'd have slept together. She could have said that the baby was his then, and they would have ended up as this happy little family together. Or a big mess with a divorce and custody battle and a lot of tears.

And what if she'd come clean with Tim, what would he have done? Would he have denied everything, called her a slut and said it must be someone else's baby because they'd never slept together at all? Would he have married her like a real gentleman and stuck it out, sleeping with other women on the weekends but always coming back to her after work?

Mark had been willing to be her daddy. Mark had wanted a life with Sophie and he still did and she knew it, but she just didn't love him like that. He was like another brother to her, he had always been, just like Ruby was her sister. Blood had nothing to do with it. She had never been _in_ love, she could say with confidence, but she loved a lot of people.

She'd never known a love as big as how she loved Alexa Robin Baker. Sometimes Sophie didn't even know how it all fit into her heart; how it hadn't burst yet and flooded through her whole body and filled her right up from toes to head. How could her own mother have done that to herself, and how could her own daddy have left them like they were just pets he didn't care for anymore, when she loved Alexa enough that sometimes it overwhelmed her? She couldn't imagine leaving her baby girl behind for a second.

She wondered if Tim could ever feel that way. Would he feel the anchor if he ever laid eyes on her the way Sophie had the first second she'd seen that squirmy, crying baby wrapped in beige in the hospital? Or would Alexa just be another little kid at the park to him, or walking down the street, or sitting in the kitchen at dinner wiggling her first loose tooth for everyone to see?

Too many questions swirled in Sophie's head that night, sitting out on the porch in the dark strumming a song she didn't have words for yet.

**x x x**

The first thing Joel saw when he walked into the warehouse at ten o'clock exactly wasn't all the desks set up in two even lines of ten at the back of the room, nor the secretarial desk at the front; he didn't notice how dim the lighting was; he didn't see _Timothy Shepard_ on the back office door in silver lettering across the window; nor did he look at any of the other men standing around, least of all Tim himself.

No, the first thing Joel saw when he walked into the warehouse at ten o'clock exactly was Curly Shepard, scarred and slouching with the whisper of a five o'clock shadow across his jaw. And that's exactly where Joel aimed his first punch.

Nobody stepped in at first. Even Tim stepped back, watching Joel release all his anger into his brother's face. And Joel sure wasn't holding back: a punch for the picture of the Texans, a punch for breaking Sophie's heart, a punch for cheating on her, a punch just for being in the Shepard Gang, three punches for stabbing Mark and leaving him to bleed, and then finally Christopher grabbed his wrist as he swung back again, and someone else – he couldn't see who – got his shoulder on the other side and hoisted him off Curly's chest where they'd fallen to the floor.

"That's enough," Tim said as Curly turned his head to spit a wad of blood and saliva to the dirty concrete floor. The knees of Joel's jeans were coated in light brown dust, and it was all up Curly's back when he stood up too. "Fuck, Curly, don't spit on the floor."

Joel lit up a cigarette with shaking hands. "I ain't fuckin' workin' –"

"You're workin' with whoever I hire," Tim cut across, but it was clear that he needed Joel a lot more than he needed Curly by the thoughtful look in his dark eyes. "You ain't even gonna be here most of the time. He," and he pointed at his brother here with a lazy flick of his hand, "is gonna be cleanin' up this whole damn floor."

"Fuck off," Curly muttered, striking his own smoke.

Tim rubbed his eyes with one hand, thumb on one side and index and middle finger on the other, and breathed out hard. Things were already going askew because of his brother. Maybe asking him in wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, but he needed more men and until he could find some, this would have to do. Then maybe he could let Curly go, or at least keep him out of Joel's way. Joel wasn't exactly highly educated, but he wasn't dumb either, and he was a good leader.

Tim let everyone go around and claim a desk like an elementary school classroom teacher. When they were all sitting down, mostly slouching down or tipping the chair back on two legs with their feet on the desks, he began to talk. He had everything planned, on big posters or small sheets of paper: a schedule, contact numbers, dates and times, locations, and a back storeroom was so packed with labelled drugs and weaponry that they'd all surely get fifty-to-life if the cops raided it.

Bradley Moore became Stationhead: in control of all comings and goings in the warehouse, including bringing in and taking out drugs and the use of weapons. Staying with him would be Tim himself, who didn't much like the idea of field work, and Curly, and some of the other men Tim already had in mind but hadn't gotten around to talking to yet.

Joel was Fieldhead, his second hand was Darren Troy, and the rest of the boys were on that team with promises of more. They'd be manning their own phones at their own desks, making all the runs, all the hits, all the meetings with potential business partners and were instructed to always be scouting for other ventures: businesses they could purchase, high-powered officials they could work with, anything at all to bring in the cash. Tim wanted to control _everything_, all criminal activity he possibly could. He even talked a little about the potential of drug runs into Canada and from Mexico.

To anyone on the outside it would have looked like a confusing, messy, unstructured operation that was doomed to fail from the beginning. To you it makes no sense, but to them it was very clear and concise, and a better opportunity for all of them. To anyone on the outside it made no sense because these boys knew how to keep their mouths shut. Because Tim would cut out their tongues if they talked. And he wasn't bluffing.


	6. always, all ways

_This chapter is kind of short and stupid. Sometimes I feel like this story (and its prequel) is just a trainwreck, rushed and boring and poorly written haha. I read some other people's stuff and I'm like ... what am I even doing? But I'm gonna take it to the end and write it the best I can anyway! LOADS OF LOVE to this beautiful reviewer, lulu hendrix - thank you so much! xx as always, pleeease review! let me know if my story really IS a trainwreck or not haha. xoxo, Carolyn._

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><p><em>I guess I'm trying to say I'm sorry<br>but it always comes out wrong  
>I think a part of you still loves me<br>even though we're moving on _

Joel wasn't home much through the rest of the week. The only time Sophie saw him was at the diner on their lunch break and when he came home for dinner, if he even did that. Mark came over after classes more often to help Alexa with her math – which was really starting to show some real improvement, her marks going up from D's and C's to mostly B-plusses – and would stay later and later each night. Usually Ruby would join in too, and they'd go out onto the porch after Alexa went to bed and Sophie would play her guitar for them to practice for Saturday, and before school she'd go through the songs with Alexa so she could practice too. After school on Friday Dana picked Alexa up from school and they went swimming in Dana's pool all the way until dinner, then went out to McDonald's and Sophie stayed home and didn't eat a thing and used the free time to stress over pretty much everything.

To her surprise, Joel was awake and bathed – and unshaven and hair-oiled – when Sophie woke up early Saturday morning to wash up herself before Alexa got up. Their shower had broken a couple months back, and with no money to fix it they'd all resorted to filling up the tub and rinsing their hair by filling up a big mixing bowl with clean water from the tap and pouring it over themselves a few times, which was all fine and dandy for Alexa who took baths anyway, but Joel didn't fit in the tub and Sophie's hair was so long she had to stand up to do it and ended up splashing water all over the floor in the process.

"What are you doing up so early?" she asked while grabbing a towel from the tiny linen closet across the hall from the bathroom. Joel lazily looked over at her from his position of leaning in front of his bedroom window with a lit cigarette in his fingers.

Joel said, "Didn't wanna miss your thing."

All Sophie did was nod and disappear into the bathroom because her throat felt a little too thick to speak. He always went to everything – Sophie's plays and performances, Alexa's school concerts and her kindergarten graduation, and he'd even gone to prom with Ruby because her date cancelled at the last minute – no matter what tribulations he was going through in his own life.

Sophie just had enough time to put on a little mascara and lipstick, and French braid her hair into a stinger straight down her back, before Alexa sleepily stumbled out of her bedroom and to the bathroom to pee. Her hair was sticking out at all angles and she had a red line down her face from a fold in her pillowcase pressing into her cheek all night.

Alexa was sent downstairs with Joel to get breakfast while Sophie rushed madly upstairs putting on a pair of shorts and a light, short-sleeve floral blouse tucked in a little. Outside the sun was already burning through the windows and she suspected it would only be the same outside in the afternoon: cooking like an oven, so she took shorts out for Alexa, too, along with a simple blue and white striped tee shirt.

"Have you seen my music?" Sophie shouted down the stairs after tearing apart her bedroom trying to find the notebook with music and lyrics scribbled all inside. "Alexa, come up and get dressed, baby!"

"I got Alexa," Joel called back, "and your music is in the living room."

All in all it was a stressful morning, but when they were all finally dressed and combed and into the car, Sophie could exhale and relax. She needed to be there at ten o'clock for a sound check and to make sure everything was going smoothly and the grounds – they'd chosen the public park's big, empty field – were clear of trash and broken glass so people could sit down.

Immediately out of the car Alexa rocketed over to the little pool for the kids, and Joel ran after her without a word.

"I need her here at eleven!" Sophie called out. Joel just threw his hand up.

**x x x**

It was a big commotion in the park. Spread out all over the grass there were dancers hopping around and actors yelling at each other, and every third person and their dog had an acoustic guitar. Tim leaned against the door of his car across the way, watching the crowd and waiting patiently with a cigarette between his fingers. His hair was greased and parted and he wore slacks and a button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He'd even gone as far as to put suspenders on, because he'd been meeting, earlier that morning, with a very professional man who wasn't about to give work to a hood in ripped jeans and a wifebeater.

That was over now, but he hadn't gone home yet to change. Tim lived on his own now, in a small ground-floor apartment: two bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen and living room. Coming back to his childhood home would have been more than he could handle; he didn't like being back in Tulsa at all, but times were hard all over the place.

Sweat was pooling at his armpits and the back of his neck, but he wasn't bothered. Later he would take off his shirt and be disgusted at the yellowish stains all over, but for now he hardly thought of it except to be uncomfortable at how hot it already was. Oklahoma summers were funny that way: one year it'd be chilly as soon as September crept up, but others the sun would flare up as a last goodbye for a few weeks then disappear completely and autumn would flood in.

"You goin' to check it out?" asked a voice at his shoulder, and cigarette smoke that wasn't his curled around his ear.

Tim shook his head. "Not likely." He turned around to look in the face of his next hopeful recruits. The boy was taller and older now, but his hair was the same and perfectly greased – so Tim wasn't the only one who refused to let go of the style – and he was babyfaced as always. The older one had sideburns of almost mutton chop status, and his grey eyes were steely. Those eyes looked familiar, beyond having seen them once or twice in an old rumble or party at Buck's.

"Curtis," Tim said, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground, "Mathews. Why don't we take a drive?"

**x x x**

Alexa sang her heart out. All the old ladies clapped and laughed and told each other how _adorable_ she was, and Joel whistled after every song. Angela cattily chatted to her friends through the whole set about how Alexa shouldn't be encouraged with a _voice like that_, but nobody paid her any attention. She had, after all, tried to perform a whole dance earlier with her son, who was far too young, and it just turned into a disaster.

Mark and Ruby were there, along with Dana – sans the fancy doctor, who worked weekends – and around two o'clock she'd seen Laura slinking around somewhere, probably high out of her mind. Sophie even swore she glimpsed Curly Shepard once, then shook her head a few times and decided that it was a trick of the mind. The sun was so hot, after all, and she hadn't slept well last night and was nervous about having to play in front of so many people.

During hers and Alexa's set, almost fifty dollars was donated to the shelter.

"Way to go, baby!" Sophie cheered. Joel had taken her guitar to bring back to his car, so she swung Alexa up into her arms and balanced on her hip. She was almost too big, too heavy, for Sophie to carry, but being a mother – carrying Alexa around, and all her things, for years – had made her a little stronger than before. Strong enough to haul around almost fifty pounds for a little while in the hot sun, anyway.

On her way towards Mark, Ruby, Dana, and Joel, she rubbed Alexa's back and whispered to her soothingly. She'd heard all the things Angela had been saying, they carried over the crowds right into her head, and although everyone else had clapped and cheered, Alexa's lip trembled.

"You sing beautifully," Sophie said quietly, making sure Alexa was listening. "And everyone loved you. Did you hear them all clap? That's because you did amazing, baby."

Alexa just shook her head and buried her face in Sophie's neck.

Unexpectedly, Sophie found her path blocked and had to stop short, jilting Alexa into looking up and around to find what had caused the sudden traffic jam. Her eyes found another pair of the same midnight sky colour, set in a scarred and frowning face from which cigarette smoke curled. She couldn't take her eyes off his dark, intense face – and neither could her mother.

"I didn't know you could do that," Curly said, flicking ashes onto the ground. "Play an' sing, I mean."

Sophie shifted Alexa a little and shrugged. "I just learned a bit ago."

"It's good to see you," he said, studying her face. It'd been so long since he'd seen it last, but it was just as perfect as the very first time he'd laid eyes on her on the Ribbon. The little girl looked familiar too – she was the same kid he'd watched walking home from school that day. The kid he figured had the simplest life a kid could have. The kid who looked like Angel, a little bit. Or maybe she looked like Tim.

Sophie was lying, but she said, "you too."

"You got a kid."

"Yeah. Alexa." The whole thing was stiff and formal, and extremely awkward for Sophie. Over Curly's shoulder she could see Joel's hands balled into fists, and Mark trying to talk him down. She wished she could just sidestep the drug-addict hood that had ruined her summer and never think about him again, but something was keeping her rooted to the spot. Some part of her, deep down inside, didn't want to go anywhere.

"Hey Alexa," Curly said, putting out his hand. She shook it nervously, her little fingers in the loosest grip she could muster. He was gentle, too. "I'm Curly." That made Alexa giggle a little.

"Sophia," Joel said, finally having wormed away from Mark. "Your guitar's in the car. We should go." His tone was firm and set.

"It was nice to see you Curly," Sophie said again. When she walked away, Joel leaned in close to his face and muttered, "If you go near my sister again, I'll kill you," and he left after her.

Curly just took another calm drag of his cigarette, then dropped the butt on the grass.

**x x x**

In the car, Joel drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. In the backseat Alexa was singing along to the radio, even though she barely knew any of the right words and most of it was just mumbling and made-up lyrics.

"Joel, calm down," Sophie sighed, leaning her head against the window to stare at the streets as they rushed by. He was speeding. "He was just saying hi."

"Don't you think," Joel said through clenched teeth, "that he's said enough yet?"

"Maybe he's changed."

That made Joel laugh; a low, harsh, humourless laugh that sent a chill down Sophie's spine. "He ain't changed a bit, Soph."


	7. anymore

_This one is a long time coming, and very short, but from the looks of things no one is even reading this story, and that means no reviews. I don't think anyone even cares, but here it is anyone. If you care, and you want me to keep working on this story, PLEASE tell me because I am losing like all my will to finish. - Carolyn._

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><p><em>I will not let you define everything I am<br>by one thing that I don't have, 'cause I'm more than that_

On Monday, after dropping Alexa off at school, Sophie headed to work. Thirty minutes later she headed home, her hands shaking and tears of frustration pooling in her eyes. People glanced curiously at her as she walked by – for it wasn't every day such a pretty young thing lost herself even a little in public – but she kept her head up and looked ahead and clenched her fists.

She'd been _let go,_ of all things, simply because the doctor's wife felt bored of playing housewife every day now that the kids were in high school, so he offered her Sophie's job instead. And what could she do? She was just a girl, she had no power or sway in a man's office. So she'd taken her pink slip quietly and declined his offer to phone her a cab to get home. She walked back and forth every day and she could do it this morning too.

But … _fuck!_ How was she going to break this to Joel? He didn't make enough to support all of them, and how could she ever expect him to pay for her and her baby? He'd been paying for her her entire life more or less, and she was a grown woman with a child now and none of that was his burden. They'd have to move out, get on welfare … she'd have to make a plan immediately. And look into the unemployment office for a temporary job in the meantime.

While she walked she had time to think. She thought mostly of when she was young – her mind went there so often, trying to pick up the pieces and put them together and find out the exact moment where everything went wrong; where her first love didn't come hard and fast and leave just as quickly the way other little girls' did, but instead crept up and slapped her in the face, then danced around the fire laughing and screaming for the rest of her life. She didn't love Curly, that was just little kid love, puppy love. And she sure as hell didn't love Tim, never had and never would. But her very first love and mess and big mistake didn't turn into a nice little life lesson and a broken heart for a week. It turned into Alexa. And now everything was complicated again.

On the corner by Weston, a skinny, starved girl with scraggly hair and a pockmarked face leaned weakly against a pole. She was in blue jeans and a small top, and smiled and waved at Sophie as she came closer. At first Sophie had to squint to get a better look at the junkie, but then she smiled and waved back; sometimes it was hard to recognize Laura from a distance.

"Sophie, baby," Laura slurred – drunk in public. The girl who used to think her appearance was more important than anything else. It made Sophie uncomfortable to even be around her these days, the way she let herself go. The way she was living on the streets. All the drugs. "I need a dollar, man."

Sophie shrugged away, looking up and down the street before backing out into the crosswalk. "Sorry, Laura, really, but I don't have anything."

"You lying bitch! You have a job!" Laura cursed, stumbling forward with her arms out. Sophie didn't want to turn, put her back to Laura in this state, so she kept walking with her back towards the other side.

"I got fired!" Sophie shouted back, feeling the crosswalk on the other side against her heel. Laura wasn't so lucky – she was barely over half way across when a fire red T-Bird came careening down the road and screeched to a late stop with its front end knocking her down, breathless. Her head cracked audibly against the pavement.

"Oh my God, Laura," Sophie breathed, rushing to kneel down at her side.

Blood was pooling on the blacktop but Laura's eyes were open and only slightly unfocused. "I feel dizzy," she mumbled.

Sophie almost laughed, a surge of nervous energy bubbling on her lips. "Yeah, that'll happen when you get hit by a car." She looked around for someone, called out for someone to call an ambulance as three men got out of the T-Bird.

**x x x**

Laura was fine. She needed a few stitches in her head and was a little dizzy and bruised, but otherwise she was good to go. Two-Bit Matthews offered her a ride home which she took gratefully, and Sophie casually wondered what he'd think when she directed him to an empty alley in the middle of town. Maybe he was from the rough side too, but no one had it as rough as Laura.

"Didn't know you were friends with Tim," Sophie commented quietly, nodding her head to where Tim was talking in low voices with Matthews. Laura was waiting in his yellow Volkswagen, humming absently.

Ponyboy took a drag from a cigarette. "I needed a job."

"Oh! So you work with Joel?"

Non-committal shrug. "Sometimes."

She tried to sound as casual as possible when she asked, "do you … Do you know when he'll be paid?"

Ponyboy cocked an eyebrow. "Got money problems?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

**x x x**

On Monday night, Ponyboy Curtis sat down across Tim Shepard's desk, between Joel Baker and Bradley Moore. After sitting quietly, waiting for Joel to brief Tim on how well the operation outside these walls were going and how well Matthews and a few others were doing out "in the field" with him and Bradley to praise Curtis himself on how useful he was inside, he was finally able to speak.

He wasn't nervous. He used to be a nervous public speaker, and Baker and Moore were more public than he was usually exposed to like this, but he'd changed. His whole world had changed and he had nobody but himself anymore and he'd had to get used to some things. Not to mention that Tim didn't scare him any. Maybe he scared some people – with his tattoos and soulless eyes – but Ponyboy knew him from way back. From back when he was passionate and a gang leader and loved his brother.

"Sophie Baker lost her job," Ponyboy began evenly. Bradley cocked an eyebrow and Joel flinched, but nobody spoke. "And you have an empty secretary desk."

Bradley cut in, "we should wall that off. So you don't walk right in on the whole operation. Keep it all separate. Just in case."

Joel nodded. "More professional."

Tim leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "I want the wall first. Then someone'll call Sophie Baker."

They needed a secretary, it was true – they needed someone to answer phones and regulate appointments and manage money and payments. Plus a cute little chick around the office would help morale a little. And Baker's sister would be trustworthy, she could keep her mouth shut. But he wished it didn't have to be Sophie.

**x x x**

While men were discussing her financial future across town, and Joel's mind was wrapped up in how well she had kept this secret all through dinner, imagining why she'd been fired and why she hadn't told him right away, Sophie Baker was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee – which she still wasn't too fond of – and helping Alexa with her science homework.

She'd gone to the unemployment office after work but it was closed until two. The wait in the welfare office was over an hour and she wasn't willing to wait for that either, so she'd come home and made dinner – and eaten none of it – and kept her mouth shut. Joel suspected nothing, but tonight Alexa seemed distracted and Sophie couldn't help but wonder if she'd picked up on it.

"What's wrong sweetie?"

Alexa didn't look up from her paper, which was less like a drawing of the Milky Way and more like loose, lazy circles. "I got in trouble at school today," she mumbled, resting her cheek on her hand.

Sophie cocked an eyebrow. She hadn't gotten a call from Alexa's teacher and they hadn't sent a letter home, either. "What for?"

She sighed, hard and loud, and put down her crayon. "I pushed someone. And bit her."

"Alexa!" Sophie reprimanded, her eyebrows knitting. She'd never known her daughter to be violent. Not even in Kindergarten, when a little boy had teased her for a week straight for being tan, did she do anything but cry in the coatroom and not tell the teacher what was wrong. And now she was _biting_ people? "Alexa why did you _bite_ someone?"

"Because!" Alexa screamed, tears pooling in her big, dark eyes. "Because I don't have a daddy! They said nobody loved me because I don't have a daddy. They said he left because of _me_!"

"Oh, baby," Sophie breathed, rushing so fast to the other side of the table that she knocked her coffee onto the floor. She gathered Alexa up into her arms and hugged her tight, wanting to cry right along with her. "Oh baby no, no it isn't your fault at all." No, it wasn't Alexa's fault – it was Sophie's, and she knew it. And now Alexa was suffering for it and it broke her heart.

"I love you very, very much," she whispered into Alexa's ear, rubbing her back and rocking her hips side to slide slowly. "I love you, and Uncle Joel loves you, and Uncle Mark loves you, and Auntie Ruby loves you, and Auntie Dana loves you," and she spent the rest of the night listing again and again all the people who loved her and why. And when she tucked Alexa into bed, with dry eyes and wobbly smiles and a bedtime story of Alice, she kissed her daughter on both cheeks, forehead, and lips, and promised her, "it's not your fault your daddy isn't here. He just wasn't ready, but when he is, I promise he'll love you just as much as we all do."

It made Alexa smile and drift off to sleep peacefully, but Sophie's heart and mind were still uneasy, because she'd made a promise that felt impossible to keep.

**x x x**

On Tuesday morning, Mark showed up to the warehouse with a toolbox and overalls. In a pile just inside the door were all the building materials he'd been promised, and a note wishing that the job would be done by Wednesday morning.

"No promises," Mark grumbled, picking up a two-by-four.


	8. enough for now

_Ugh, my reviewers (you know who you are) are the most perfect people in the world and I love you two very much right now, haha. xoxo, Carolyn. PS - this chapter sucks, and there's a reason that letter is absolute ridiculous shit ahah so PLEEEASE don't get on my case about how unrealistic it sounds.  
><em>

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><p><em>That's enough for now, he should have never left you broken<br>he should have held you, things your father never could do_

In the mail on Friday morning, Sophie Baker received her last cheque from the walk-in clinic. She stayed standing out by the mailbox in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt, figuring that walking Alexa to school was nothing to dress up for. Yesterday she went in to talk to Alexa's teacher about the fight and ended up with two days' detention for Alexa because that kind of behaviour wasn't tolerated no matter what the cause. It was all outlined in a second letter pulled from the rusty old mailbox, a fat envelope full of school policies.

There was a letter for Joel from their mother in the crazy house – she never wrote to Sophie, never mentioned her in the letters, never thought about her – and a handful of bills for the row house, water and electricity, and insurance payments.

The last envelope was yellowed and crinkled, with just _Sophia Baker_ on the front, clearly not delivered by the mailman. There was no mailing address, no return address, and no stamp – just her name, in black ink that bled tiny, dark veins in the paper.

She took the stack of envelopes inside and dropped them on the kitchen table, all except the curious one, which she stared at all the way up the stairs and into the bedroom, and until her door was closed and she was sunk down on the floor against the bed's footboard she didn't open it. But once she was settled and took a steadying breath, she ripped off the end, puffed it with a blow, and slid the single sheet of stationary out into her palm.

The writing – and paper – was a woman's, she could see that immediately. Purple flowers bloomed in the corners, faded green vines wound up and down the sides like a border. She had to squint to read the shaky, slanted handwriting, but with each word she made out, her heart stopped even more. _Sophia, _it read:

_I never wanted to tell you this, but I suppose now is a better time than any since I have very little of it left. You were never your father's child, but I'm sure you know that on your own by now. The way he is so distant with you, how he has never made any efforts to be in your life. He paid for your school so that you would be as far away as possible while he tried to reconstruct a relationship with Joel and Robin. Clearly, he failed. I wanted you gone, too. I was so disappointed when it was Robin who ended up in that hospital and not you. You were a constant reminder of what I'd done wrong, what I wish I hadn't done. Your father is James Matthews and you look so much like him – his eyes, his hair … you were a constant reminder of the night that I ruined my marriage and I have hated you for it ever since. I'm going to die soon Sophia, and I will die without having ever loved you. I need you to know that. Tell Joel I am sorry, and I will be with Robin soon._

_Mother._

"Be with Robin soon," Sophie mouthed, her face impassive. "Robin's gone to Heaven, though. And the only place I can imagine you is Hell."

She crumpled the note and tossed it out her open bedroom window. Then she went and knocked on Joel's bedroom door, beyond which he was sleeping off a late night. "Mother is dying," she called through the wood. "You best go say goodbye."

Joel only grunted.

**x x x**

Tim Shepard sat behind his desk, fiddling with the pen in his hand, flipping it back and forth through each finger from beginning to end then back again. When he'd come in this morning, there had been a wall ten feet from the door. It was painted mint green and stretched from one end of the warehouse to the other, twelve feet tall – nowhere near the ceiling, but tall enough to keep out curious eyes – and held a thick oak door to the right. The secretary's desk was there too, a half circle of dark wood and yellow Formica reminiscent of the front desks in doctor's offices and public schools. All that it was missing was a secretary.

He held the receiver up to his ear, pressed the intercom button on his big, black telephone. In the office, Bradley Moore picked up. "Shepard?"

"Have somebody call Sophie Baker," he said, "tell her we got a position to fill down here. Don't tell her who for."

"Yep," Bradley said and hung up the phone. Through his office door Tim heard the shout, "Curtis! Phone Baker's sister."

**x x x**

The weather had cooled down fast since the beginning of September, even faster since that morning, so when Sophie and Joel left their house after lunch they were both in jackets – Joel, a zip-up sweatshirt and Sophie, her grey wool coat. She'd changed into a black pencil skirt and white blouse even though Joel told her that jeans would be fine. Sophie didn't want to take any chances though, didn't even know where she was going or what she was interviewing for. Her blonde hair was in a loose ponytail, with bangs in her face and tendrils falling out beside her cheeks. It was still so thick, so impossible to keep pulled back tight.

Her hands were still shaking violently from the letter. It sounded so unreal, so ridiculous and impossible that she couldn't believe anyone in the world had written it, especially her mother. What a stupid notion, that she was a bastard child. Was her mother really that far gone?

"Don't get mad," Joel warned when he turned off the main street and headed down towards the industrial area.

_Too late_, Sophie thought, clenching her fists in her lap. What a horrible day to even receive something like that. She needed this job, and unless it was to be a hooker or stripper, she was going to take it, no matter what. But if she was griping and growling the entire time she certainly wasn't going to be offered it.

She tried to imagine saying any of those words to Alexa. She just couldn't. How could you talk like that to your own child, your flesh and blood? But if it wasn't from mother, if it was a joke letter, it sure as heck wasn't funny at all.

Joel pulled the car to a stop in front of a nondescript building and cut the engine. The silence brought Sophie back out of her head and she looked up at the warehouse with dismay and a creased forehead.

"This? What am I supposed to be doing here?"

"Just c'mon," he mumbled, getting out and even opening her door for her. "You needed a job an' this is a job okay so just let's go."

Sophie followed behind him with her heels clacking on the blacktop, then on the concrete floor inside. They bypassed the empty front desk and he led her all the way down between two rows of unoccupied desks to a closed door with _Timothy Shepard_ on the glass. She stopped short.

"What's going on, Joel?" she demanded.

Joel sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "We need a secretary okay? An' you need a job an' Tim's willin' to give you this one."

"I don't want _anything _from Shepard," she fought, but Joel knocked on the office door anyway. An unforgettable voice from inside called, "yeah, come in," and Joel swung the door open and pushed Sophie ahead of him. He didn't follow her in, instead shutting the door behind her.

Tim Shepard was leaning back behind the desk. His face was harder than she'd ever seen it, eyes cold. He was covered in tattoos and his hair was greased back and he was dressed surprisingly well. It was clear that he was doing well for an east sider, but it didn't comfort her at all. She wasn't proud of his success.

"Have a seat," he offered, gesturing with his hand to the chair beside her. She sat tentatively, her hands still clenched, trying not to make eye contact.

They were both silent for a minute, while he watched her, looked her up and down, took a minute to compose himself, and then he was all business. He told her everything that they were doing there – the illegal activities, who they were partnered with, the type of men who would be coming in and out of the office not only to work, but to make deals and sales.

"I trust you, Sophie," he admitted casually. "I need someone I can trust to work here."

Sophie was silent. If this operation ever got busted, she'd go to prison along with the rest of them. What would happen to Alexa? Would they let Mark or Dana or Ruby take her, or would she end up in a girls' home? On the other hand, what would happen to her if they had no money? Was it worth it?

"Why did you sleep with me?"

That wasn't the question she'd meant to ask. It'd been the one swirling around her head for years, but not what she'd wanted to come out of her mouth the first time she saw Tim Shepard again, when he was offering her a job. _Oh shit, shit shit shit! _

He stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, turned away from her to stare out a dirty, grime-streaked Plexiglas window. "I don't know. It was a stupid mistake."

Ouch. She hadn't known what to expect, but it was nothing like that. He'd slept with her accidentally?

"So, job or no?"

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I need the job."

"Good. You start tomorrow."

She stood up and smoothed out her skirt, anxious to leave. She hoped she'd never have to talk to him again, that she'd deal with someone else, that someone else would be her manager. He'd told her all about what she'd need to do and none of it was new to her, nothing she needed to learn.

With her hand on the doorknob, Tim cleared his throat and quickly asked, "The kid … She Curly's?"

"Tim," Sophie sighed, feeling her heart sink a few inches towards her intestines. "You know she isn't."

"She ain't mine," he said forcefully, shaking his head. Sophie didn't say a word, leaving Tim in a thick, drowning silence.


	9. my dilemma

_I understand if everyone hates me and no one wants to read this anymore. I'm SOOO sorry to all my readers, but I had a rough time these past months and I haven't been able to write a word. But I'm back to finish this, and I reaally hope you all can forgive me. I'M SO SORRY. Please review if you liked it (or if you didn't), and gimme all your ideas if you have any, tell me what you liked and what you didn't, etc. and once again, so sorry babies 3 xoxo, Carolyn.  
><em>

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><p><em>Here's my dilemma – one half of me wants you<br>and the other half wants to forget_

There was a storm raging outside. Roiling black clouds filled the sky and rain poured down on the town like a curse, threatening to wash away everything and everyone in its path. Bright flashes of lightning broke through the sky, while only seconds afterwards, spine-tingling claps of thunder shook houses and their inhabitants alike.

In the small bedroom the blinds were wide open, and Sophie Baker had a perfect view of the show outside. Her hair was fanned out around her head, curling tendrils that snaked across the pillow and down the quilt, over her shoulders and down the edge of the mattress.

Due to the storm school had been cancelled. There was just no way, the radio said, that kids without cars or busses could get out in this. They didn't want a bunch of kids with colds in class, so everyone was to stay home until tomorrow. So Sophie called in at work, said she couldn't make it on account of her daughter being home all day, there was no way she could just leave Alexa alone.

But Bradley had said, "Bring the kid in. She can play on the floor."

Sophie stayed one more quiet moment lying on her bed in the dark. Joel was already gone, had left for work an hour ago. He had to be somewhere by seven, and it took him two hours to get there at least in such a storm, he'd have to drive so slow. Alexa was still fast asleep in bed, her light breathing across the hall the only noise Sophie could hear, and it calmed her nerves and settled her stomach. Alexa was the best thing that had ever happened to her, of that she was certain. The long nights awake when she was teething, missing job opportunities because there was no babysitter, struggling to scrape together enough cash to keep buying her new clothes because she grew so damn fast – it didn't matter. She would give up sleeping and eating forever if it meant that Alexa was happy. She just wished Tim thought the same way.

But he was no daddy. He would never be a daddy to Alexa, and the thought broke her heart into pieces.

Finally Sophie rolled out of bed and got dressed in a skirt and blouse, and pulled her hair into a bun. She didn't bother with makeup – hadn't through the weekend either, her first two days on a job that was surprisingly uneventful and easy. There was a lot of paperwork but it was mindless, easy. Some of the guys that came in and out were charming enough, and Bradley Moore wasn't so bad. Plus it was nice having Curtis around. He always had something to say about something, and sometimes they went for lunch together around one. So far she hadn't talked to Tim at all, only seen him when he left in the evenings and sometimes if he came in late in the morning.

Then she woke up Alexa.

"You don't have to go to school today baby girl," Sophie said quietly. She hadn't turned on the light in Alexa's bedroom, but had softly shaken her awake. The little girl sat up in bed, blinking and rubbing her eyes.

"Why?"

"Too stormy. But you can come to work with mommy – would you like that?"

Nodding excitedly, Alexa wiggled out of bed and came over to the closet, where Sophie was trying to pick out an outfit. She hated to admit it – and felt guilty as hell – but she was looking for something that would make Alexa look so undeniably beautiful that Tim just _had_ to care, or at least wonder what he was missing out on.

"The grey one," Alexa suggested, pointing to a grey-and-red-plaid wool pleated skirt. She had a ruffle-cuffed blouse to go with it, and a little vest and red beret too. It was usually for special occasions like school pictures or birthday parties, but it was her favourite outfit, so Sophie brought the clothes down off their hangers.

"Put these on while I find a clean pair of stockings," Sophie instructed, ruffling Alexa's hair. It was already starting to get long again, already just past her shoulders, and the bangs were a little in her eyes on one side. The beret would push them over though, Sophie mused.

After breakfast – which Alexa ate and Sophie skipped – and teeth-brushing, Sophie and Alexa filled her book bag with toys and crayons and snacks, grabbed umbrellas from the closet, and hurried out in the pouring rain to the bus stop. Sophie was beginning to wonder if Joel was right, that maybe she should consider getting her license. She didn't like the way water was creeping up on Alexa's little black shoes.

The warehouse was quiet as always when Sophie walked up, holding onto Alexa's hand. The little girl was visibly nervous, her legs shaking and teeth chattering. Or cold – the plastic rain jacket wasn't doing much to keep her warm, but there was heat in the building, so Sophie rushed her daughter in.

It was eight o'clock when Sophie punched in and sat at her desk. Alexa took her book bag and dumped all of her toys out on the far side of the room in a spectacular display of colour and giant mess. She was on the far side of the door to the rest of the warehouse, well out of the way of it and the desk both, so Sophie didn't scold her. She just told her to be quiet, and not stare too much when people came in, the same as she'd done in the doctor's office because mommy had to work.

"You could do some of your homework too if you wanted," Sophie nudged. She'd slipped Alexa's phonics worksheets in too, but the little girl had quickly segregated those onto the waiting bench behind her and pointedly ignored her mother.

Everyone who walked in that morning had something to say about Alexa. Ponyboy Curtis even took the time to colour one picture with her, of a barn in the country with fireflies all over and a golden retriever dog. Joel came back around eleven and gave Alexa a kiss. Even strangers commented on how adorable she was, and sometimes she showed off her loose tooth to them by pushing out on it with her tongue until it was almost straight out and poking at her lip.

She didn't see Tim all day. But she did see Curly.

"Hey kiddo," he said to Alexa, and she promptly put out her hand for another handshake and smiled proudly. Then he sauntered over to the desk. He'd been doing this every day so far, coming over to say hello. Commenting on the weather. Sending her heart into crazy, erratic beats.

"I'm off the drugs now, hey," he said today. "Fully. No cravin' this mornin' or nothin'."

"Congrats, Curly," Sophie said, and this time her smile was sincere. She wondered if he would have loved her still that summer if he'd been sober for all of it.

Curly knew he would have.

"Do you wanna go to lunch, maybe? I got money today, I could pay … Alexa, too."

She didn't even have to think of it long. He still had all his charm, his sweetness hidden under that rough exterior that looked even worse these days. He was still beautiful to her, though. Still a mystery, still dangerous, still her first love. "I'd love to, Curly."

They went to a McDonald's down the street so Alexa could have a Happy Meal and play in the ball pit. She did just that, running back every few minutes to have a bite of chicken or a sip of Sophie's 7 Up.

"So … the job's going well?" Sophie asked, a little nervous, unsure of what to really say. She wanted so badly to be able to reach out and touch him again, like when they were young, but she knew she couldn't. They weren't silly teenagers anymore, trying to rebel and piss everyone off that they could. They were adults now. Coworkers, even.

Curly nodded and swallowed his huge bite of Quarter Pounder. "I've been gone for a while. It was good to know that somethin' was there when I needed it."

Sophie nodded. She wondered where he'd been all this time.

Suddenly he said, "Hey, Soph … do you maybe wanna go to a movie tomorrow night? If it's nice out, anyway …"

"Oh Curly," Sophie said, her stomach starting to twist a little. "I'd love to," and he smiled, but then she finished, "but I can't. It's almost impossible to find someone to babysit on a weekday."

Curly's smile fell. Of course she couldn't, he thought, you stupid ass. _She ain't gonna wanna go anywhere with you after what you did to her. _

"But maybe I could, I'm sure someone can," Sophie quickly amended. She couldn't stand that sad, kicked-puppy look on his face. He'd been too sad all the time she'd known him, and it wasn't fair. He wasn't really that bad, didn't really deserve the shit he got.

"Great," Curly said, sitting a little straighter now. "That's just great, Soph."


	10. carried away

_Double upload Wednesday! to show how truly sorry I am! xoxo, Carolyn  
><em>

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><p><em>I realize that we got caught up in a moment and got carried away<br>I realize that it is just another moment when everything changed  
>'cause yeah, everything's changed<em>

After lunch, which he ate in his office, Tim Shepard took a breather. He had two cigarettes, took two shots of whiskey, and rolled the sleeves on his white button-up to his elbows. Intricate black-green lines curled up both his forearms, disappearing under his sleeves, spelling out words and pictures and symbols that weren't all clear, or even English.

With liquid courage warm in his stomach, and his hair greased back solidly, Mr Shepard opened his office door and strode out, up the aisle between the desks – a few people glanced his way but nobody really paid him much notice – and through the wooden door into Sophie Baker's secretarial area.

Sophie herself was sitting behind her desk, fingers flying on the typewriter. She was in a white dress and, with her blonde hair in a messy bun, tendrils in her face, she looked for all the world like an angel come down to earth. For a second he couldn't take his eyes off her, but for all the right reasons this time. Not like he'd looked at her before, like a conquest, a stupid little girl caught up in a war that was none of her business. But she was beautiful, even more so now. She'd grown into her face. She was perfect.

A thump on the floor made him turn his head. A little brown-haired girl was on her butt on the floor, seemingly having fallen off the waiting bench. For a second she just looked surprised; then her face screwed up and she yelled, a sound that shot through Tim's ears like an arrow. It didn't make him cringe though, not like those little brats in the parks and restaurants. This one almost made him … hurt.

"Oh, baby!" Sophie called, dropping everything she was doing to rush over and scoop the little girl into her arms. She seemed taller than her five foot two when she kneeled down to hold her daughter. Like her love made her giant.

Sophie scolded, "I told you not to jump on the bench, didn't I?" But there was no anger in her eyes.

It was then that Sophie looked up and noticed Tim standing there for the first time. He felt his palms go clammy and began to itch for another cigarette. But this was his employee, that was all. He'd talked to her before.

But gosh, did her daughter ever look like … well, just like him.

**x x x**

Sophie kissed Alexa on the top of the head, and left her to continue playing, done crying almost immediately. She hadn't really been hurt. Just embarrassed, and frustrated from falling off something so sturdy.

"Is there something you need?" Sophie asked, her tone a little sharp. She couldn't help it. The last time she'd talked to him had been a wreck, the only good thing to come out of it this job. Besides, she was, all of a sudden, trying to fix things with Curly, finally, after years. She couldn't be dealing with Tim too.

Tim wasn't looking at Sophie anymore. He was staring at Alexa, with a look in his eyes that Sophie couldn't quite figure out, but it was soft, and a little confused. In the same room it was impossible to deny how much they looked alike, from their face to their skin colour, even their dark whirlpool eyes.

He said, quietly and softly, "That's her?"

"That's Alexa," Sophie said in agreement. "Alexa Robin Baker."

But when Tim repeated her under his breath, barely audible, lips hardly moving, that's not what he said. He said, "Alexa Shepard."

Sophie read his lips with a lump in her throat. She was always told that a mother loves her child the minute she knows she exists, but a father doesn't love her – until he sees her.

**x x x**

Joel walked through the hospital with shaking legs and a stomach full of butterflies. The last time he'd been in here, he was taking Robin home. She was talking, she was okay, she was going to see her sister again and play outside again, and maybe even go to school in the fall … And then there was Freddy, who was so pissed off at Joel, and at the Shepard gang, and at himself and his own life and his homosexuality that Joel thought he could return, but couldn't … He'd meant to kill Joel. But he'd killed Robin instead.

At the end of the hall was his mother's room, and she was sitting in her rocking chair, hair wild and flyaway. She looked very thin and lined – it had been over seven years since he'd seen her last – but she seemed as strong and healthy as ever.

"Momma," Joel whispered. "Mom … you look fine."

"Huh?" she drawled angrily. "Of course I'm goddamn fine you asshole. Who are you? Fuck you!"

Joel backed up a few steps. She was on a down day, but seemed fine otherwise. Why had Sophie said she was dying? Who had told her that?

He didn't stay to visit. He had work to do, an appointment to keep and a paycheque to pick up that he hadn't gotten around to grabbing on Friday. They needed groceries soon. Alexa needed to eat – since she seemed to be the only one doing so lately. Even Joel was thinning out, though he was getting a lot of muscle to replace it.

"This goddamn rain," Joel muttered angrily, turning on the windshield wipers. The downpour was torrential, and even on full, the wipers weren't clearing the windshield fast enough. It had gotten far worse as they day went on, and Joel's knuckles were clenched white on the steering wheel.

All of a sudden something smashed into the front, and he drove over it with a thump.

"Shit!" he yelled, pulling over to the side of the road. He hadn't even seen anything in front of him! What could he have hit?

Joel threw open the door and ran out, the rain soaking him through to his skin almost immediately. He had to search a little, backtrack at least forty paces, before he came across what he hit: nothing. He couldn't see a thing, not a skid mark or blood stain, not even a piece of garbage. From the looks of things, he hadn't hit a thing.

"What the hell …" he breathed, rubbing the back of his neck. Maybe he needed a rest. Visiting the hospital had gotten him too worked up.

**x x x**

Curly dropped the mop head onto the floor with a gross, wet _thwack_. The cement was muddy from boot tracks and dropped food crumbs, and it was up to him to clean it up because Tim didn't want to hire a janitor when they had one already built in – Curly.

Through the open door he could see his brother, Tim, talking to Sophie. What could he possibly have to say to her? Curly wondered, his face going a little red. He'd already taken her away from him once, and now he was going to do it again? Just when he was figuring out that he did love her, still, that it hadn't been some drug-induced psychosis that had caused him to want to be with her all the time. Tim couldn't feel that. He didn't have what they did.

_How cliché_, he thought angrily. _A love triangle between brothers._ It wasn't funny though, because this wasn't a movie. This was real life, and he wasn't going to let Tim take Sophie away this time – not Sophie or Alexa.


	11. soul

_And we find out why Joel is so weird! :) and oooh what's up with Curly?  
>I'm thinking of writing, either at the same time or after I finish this one, another Outsiders fic but that is actually set just before the book's time. What do you think? would any of you read it? Do you have any suggestions or ideas for me?<br>THANK YOU AND LOVE to my reviewers, especially "Yehhhok" whose reviews always make me get all smiley and giggly! xoxo, Carolyn  
><em>

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><p><em>And I spent all my wishes<br>wishing times were good_

Joel watched the colours on the ceiling float like a lava lamp, wiggling down the wall and onto his chest like bright, big Flubbers. Earlier he had wondered if maybe someone had slipped him something. He'd been jumpy all day yesterday, imagining things, confused and frustrated and unable to concentrate. Was it that drink those _niggers_ had offered him when they were doing business? They'd sure been looking at him strange.

"You hit a dog," one of the Flubbers said. It was a large pink one, flying just beyond his reach where he laid on his bed. "But your mind blocked it out."

A green one said, "You hit a _baby_."

Joel slurred, "There are no babies on the road." And he batted at the blob, but it didn't go anywhere. Instead it latched onto his hand and began to wrap itself tightly around his fist and arm.

"Hey," he giggled, shaking his arm. The harder he shook, the less funny it got. "Get off my arm, please," he mumbled. It didn't go anywhere. He shook more violently, but it just latched harder. He could feel the blood pulsing in his wrist, as if the thing was sucking it out of him. All of a sudden his arm was pale white.

"AAARGH!" he screamed, struggling against the blob which was moving closer to his shoulder now. "GET OFF OF ME! GET OFF!"

**x x x**

"I'm really sorry about our date," Sophie sighed. "But he's been yelling like that all day." She set a cup of coffee down in front of Curly at the kitchen table.

Joel had woken up early, about six o'clock, complaining that his head hurt and everything looked a little dark and grainy. By the time she got home from walking Alexa to school, he was full-on freaking out, and she hadn't been able to do much besides lead him to bed and lock him in his room so he couldn't wander around and hurt himself. But she couldn't leave him alone in the house, not like that.

Curly shrugged. "This is fine too."

A little smile tugged up the corner of her lips. "You want to stay here with me?"

"Yeah!" Curly said roughly, smiling right back at her. His voice had gotten a little scratchy over time from too many cigarettes, just like his big brother's – because after all, Curly was just Tim Shepard in miniature. Ask anyone … anyone who didn't know him anymore, anyway.

"So … how was … prison?" Sophie asked, unsure if that was territory she could go into.

"It was prison," he said simply, before changing the subject. "You likin' the new job?"

Sophie smiled. "It's a job."

Around o'clock they went out onto the porch so Curly could have a smoke. They'd talked about absolutely nothing all morning, sitting across from each other at the kitchen table while Joel whimpered upstairs, not coming down from his high. It worried her, but it was so hard not to get caught up in all Curly's crazy stories. He told her about his scars, and the robberies, and where he wanted to go and where he'd already been. He asked questions, too – questions about Robin and Freddy, and questions about Alexa and if Joel was getting better. He even asked about Mark once, which surprised her.

On the porch they talked about what was grosser: dog tongue or cat tongue. Curly teased her about her long hair, and she stood on her tip-toes to mess up his. With the cigarette still in his hand, he wrapped the other one around her waist as she balanced precariously on her toes and pulled her close, kissing her hard and directly on the mouth.

For a moment she was surprised and she stiffened, but when he dropped the smoke on the porch and stubbed it out without even looking so he could put his other hand behind her head, she melted into him like butter. The taste of his mouth, of sweet and nicotine, sent her head spinning. This was the Curly she remembered – this was _her_ Curly Shepard.

They stood out on the porch together wrapped around each other for at least an hour, until they finally had to pull away, lips red and faces flushed. All of a sudden she felt nervous, like bees were taking flight in her stomach. Curly's eyes were darker now, they almost scared her. There was no beautiful glow like before.

She backed away as casually as she could muster, and said, "I should probably go check on Joel."

He said, "I'll wait here."

**x x x**

He wasn't going to kiss her, he mused as he watched that perfect ass sway away in tight jeans. Curly wondered what happened to her innocence, because he sure hadn't taught her to kiss like that. Had Mark? Goddamn fucking Mark. If it wasn't for him, she would have been waiting for him while he was in the cooler for too many years. Him and Joel, they just had to ruin everything, didn't they?

And now she was gone, away from him again, going to look after her strung out brother. What a waste.

**x x x**

"I'm worried about him," Angela Shepard admitted, petting the curly hair of her son as he sat on her lap, making a mess of his apple sauce all over the table.

Tim nodded. He was leaning back in the kitchen chair, a lit cigarette between his fingers. Angela had one too, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of her little Joshua. "He ain't the same since he's come back."

"It's that bitch," Angela said knowledgably. "_Sophie_. She grew two inches, ya know? Seems to think it makes her pretty great now."

"Huh," Tim said noncommittally. He thought she was still five foot two. No wonder she'd seemed so tall before. And there was Angela like always, pointing out the most irrelevant details to use as a reason to hate somebody. Sometimes he wondered why he even came to see her anymore. "I don't think Sophie has anything to do with it, Angel."

Angela sneered and stubbed out her cigarette. "Will ya talk to him at least?"

"Yeah," Tim said, staring at his cigarette, at the blue-grey smoke twisting up towards the ceiling. "Yeah, I'll talk to Curly." But he wasn't really going to.

**x x x**

When Sophie came back downstairs a good hour later, she was flustered looking and blush-faced. He was at the kitchen table again, looking through one of Alexa's learn-to-read books. She hadn't needed it for a while, but Sophie didn't feel right throwing it out. Someone else might need it one day.

"He's not doing so well," she said, her eyes a little teary. "I need … I think I need to call a doctor, but Alexa's going to be waiting for me, she's out of school at three …" His eyes were calmed again, his whole face going from pleasantly relaxed to concerned for her in seconds. Maybe she was just imagining things earlier …

"Soph," Curly said, putting his arms around her, "do you want me to go pick up Alexa? I could take her to my place until you've figured things out here. It's not far from the school …"

"Oh gosh," Sophie said, hiccupping a little and wiping a tear from under her eye. "Would you? That would be amazing, Curly."

Curly smiled. "No problem. I love that kid, she's great."

"Thank you so much," Sophie said, reaching up to kiss him on the lips again, a small and quick peck before Curly turned and left. She watched him walk down the street, loping like a sly street cat, before swinging around and dialing 911.


	12. your girl

_SO HEY. It's been way too long to be acceptable since I've updated, but life happens I guess and sometimes you get busy and you run out of ideas or just a general motivation to write ... and things fall by the wayside. But I'm back with a suitcase full of new ideas and a whole lot of motivation, so if you can forgive me for my absence I'd really appreciate it. ALSO I've noticed a few things I really mucked up on - like Brumley being spelled wrong, or Two-Bit's last name which is actually spelled with only one L, not two, so I'll fix those as I write more but I don't think it's worth going back to edit. Sorry. Not that anyone has seemed bothered by it as of late. So yeah. New chapter. xoxo, Carolyn. _

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><p><em>Don't tell her lies, cause she'll believe<br>boy, she's still got baby teeth_

Tulsa General Hospital was cold, impersonal, and _expensive_. As worried as she was for her brother, who was sedated and strapped down to a hospital bed hooked up to beeping machines and bags of liquids, she couldn't help but imagine what the bill was going to look like when they got out. Dr Mercer – Dana's husband – had met them at the ambulance bay, and quickly and easily identified Joel's problem. He had been given a very high dose of LSD, and wasn't taking to it too well at all.

"But he's going to be okay?" she begged, crossing her arms nervously over her chest.

Dr Mercer could only sigh and shrug. "I really don't know, Sophie. I don't know what he'll be like when he comes down. We just have to wait."

"Do you know how he even got it?"

"I think," Dr Mercer started, then paused for a moment – contemplating – "he had the tabs in his pocket, and when he stepped out into the rain, they soaked through his jeans, onto his leg."

Stupid. What was he carrying sheets of LSD for anyway? He didn't take it. They should have packaged it if he was transporting it. Putting it just in his pocket – what had he been thinking?

"Were you thinking?" Sophie asked, her forehead resting against the slow rise and fall of Joel's chest. Every once in a while he would twitch a little, and his heartbeat didn't sound right to her, but the doctor had given him medications and all they could do now was wait it out. "What kind of idiot are you?" But she didn't mean it. "I didn't mean it." She wiped the tears away from her cheeks before they dripped onto the hospital sheet.

**x x x**

When Alexa Baker skipped out into the schoolyard, tugging her bookbag behind her, immediately she scanned for her mother. The white-blonde hair that stood out just about anywhere, the gunmetal grey eyes that she'd never seen on anyone else before. For a minute she perked up, excitement bubbling in her tummy – was she walking home alone today? All the way home? Walking to the clinic was nothing compared to being allowed to skip home all on her lonesome; it was a few blocks further and it crossed a street she'd never been allowed to cross on her own before, seven years old or not.

Before she could get too ahead of herself, she saw him, coming towards her with as much of a smile as a man like that could muster – scarred face, eyes just like hers, like a black cat on Halloween. He'd shaken her hand at the park. At mommy's new work. Hadn't been the one to see her cry like a baby over a stupid bench, but they looked the same, him and that one. He was tall, his hair was shiny and all pushed away from his face, and she knew that mommy liked him, so that was good enough for her.

"Hey Alexa," he said, and he felt a little awkward. Kids weren't his forte. He wasn't confident around them, didn't know how to talk to them, didn't know what they already knew and understood or didn't. How old was this kid – seven, did Sophie say? What were seven year old girls interested in? Who did seven year old girls trust?

"Curly," Alexa said formally, once again sticking out her hand for a shake. When he took her tiny hand in his calloused one, she giggled wildly and pulled away quick.

"D'you wanna come over to my house for a little bit?" Every word that came out of his mouth made him feel like a child predator, and he was only all too aware of the looks he was getting from other parents. He just wanted to yell out – I'm not abducting her, for chrissake! But he didn't. "Your mom' a little busy right now, she can't come get you."

More confidently now, Alexa grabbed his hand with hers, and started tugging him off the playground. Besides a few tugs left or right to make sure she was going in the right direction, Curly hardly had to lead her at all. She was a little girl on a mission. From the corner of his eye he noticed Angela, there to bring Joshua home, giving him a thousand-yard glare that only a Shepard could muster. But he didn't care. Angela hated anything that made him happy. Sophie made him happy. He could learn Alexa, and she could make him happy too.

"My tooth is loose," Alexa announced importantly, before poking it with her tongue so it bent forward. This time though, the little white pearl popped right out, tumbling down over her lip and onto the blacktop.

"Aah!" she screamed, both in surprise and excitement. "I lost my tooth! I lost my tooth! Curly, where's my tooth?" Frantically she spun on the spot, looking just about everywhere except for where it really was. Curly bent down on one knee and scooped the tooth up from the ground, putting it in Alexa's hand and making sure she closed her fist tight around it.

"Don't drop that 'til we get home an' we put it somewhere safe," he made her promise. "Or the tooth fairy ain't gonna give you nothin' for it."

Alexa gasped, and clutched it to her chest. "I won't, I promise!" she said, then she hugged him tight around the neck. "Thanks for finding it for me."

His brain didn't respond fast enough to hug her back. By the time it caught up with him, she was half way down the street ahead and he had to jog to catch up. He could learn kids, he decided. Just if they didn't hug him so much.

**x x x**

At Curly Shepard's house, there were a lot of rules. You didn't go anywhere but the kitchen and living room and bathroom – if she could go by herself anyway, which she defiantly assured him she could, and that defiance was the exact kind that Sophie showed when she'd thought that she was mature enough to get mixed up in everything that Curly Shepard had to offer. You didn't open cabinets or closets, and you didn't peek through boxes. The paint might be peeling badly off the walls but that wasn't an excuse to pick the chips off, and stay off the mushy bits of the carpet because they'd get your stockings wet and they smelled a little funny.

There were also games at Curly Shepard's house. While it was still nice enough outside – the rain hadn't lasted through the night, and the sun was peaking now – they played tag in the front yard and on the street that nobody drove down much anyway, especially not during a regular work day. Alexa won almost every time because Curly had smoker's lungs. They had a snack on the front steps of peanut butter and bananas on brown bread, then Alexa showed Curly how to do her spelling homework at the rickety kitchen table while he smoked and took sips from a bottle of beer. It bugged him a little that this kid could spell better than he could, but she clearly had a better life than he did. And she hadn't inherited her brains from the Shepard side of the family, that was for sure.

Not that she'd know that. From the ease this kid had around him, he was pretty sure she had no damn clue who her daddy was. Which was great for him, 'cause he was close enough anyway.

It was almost dinnertime when Sophie rang him. "I got your number from work," she admitted. "I wasn't even sure if you'd have a phone, but I didn't know where you lived and I just wanted you to know that I'm home now, so if you want me to pick Alexa up..."

"I can drop her off," Curly said, "it's no problem."

But really he just wanted to spend a little more time with Sophie. And if that confused Alexa, well, he'd just have to sort it all out for her. That maybe she was going to have a daddy soon. And it wouldn't be Tim-fuckin'-Shepard who was doing it.


	13. spider's web

_'Cause the line between wrong and right  
>is the width of a thread from a spider's web<em>

Angela stubbed her cigarette out on the heel of her shoe. "She ain't yours an' you know it," she said, crossing her arms against the cold. October was coming in with a vengeance, and the wind was blowing hard. Ahead of them Alexa was running, bangs blown back and cheeks flushed, holding Joshua's little hand.

"I'm Peter Pan!" she shouted, smiling open-mouthed, showing off her new gap. "You can be a lost boy, okay Joshua?"

"Lost boy!" Joshua squealed gleefully.

Angela smiled despite herself, but quickly wiped it off her face. Joshua was going to have to get used to losing his new friend real quick, because she wasn't about to start setting up playdates with the harlot's child. "You're not gonna ever be her daddy."

"Tim don't wanna do it," Curly said through a mouthful of smoke. "He ain't gonna say nothin'. You oughta see the way he looks at her."

Angela sneered. "You oughta be doin' the same, Curly Shepard, if you knew what's good for you. She's been nothin' but trouble from the beginning. Come on Joshua, let's go, we're goin' here." She reined her son back in to lead him into the free clinic, and Curly jogged to catch up to Alexa, who demanded to be piggy-backed the rest of the way.

"Ah, I don't think so, kid," he said, putting his hand on the top of her head. "My back ain't made for that."

**x x x**

Curly denied the offer to stay for dinner. From the fogged kitchen windows he could see Mark and Ruby around the table, and that wasn't the kind of time he'd been hoping to make with Sophie.

"Thank you so much for getting her," Sophie said, heartfelt, hugging him tight and giving him a quick peck on the lips. Her cheeks were a little flushed when she pulled away. "I don't know what I would have done without you."

Curly shrugged, hands in his pockets. He couldn't be too much of a pansy in front of people, not even Sophie. He had the scraps of a reputation to consider, and he was still Tim Shepard's little brother, and word around town sounded that Tim was still someone you wanted to watch for. Maybe the Brumley boys had fallen apart, but Shepard stood strong.

Inside, Alexa was excitedly announcing her big news. She plopped the wad of toilet paper from her pocket onto the table with pride. At first everyone just looked at it was confused smiles, not sure if they were supposed to congratulate her or encourage her to go further. It wasn't until Sophie came in and said, "baby, what's in the toilet paper?" that Mark and Ruby breathed little sighs of relief. Maybe Alexa had an imagination the size of Jupiter, but that was just too much for them.

"My tooth!" she said proudly, unwrapping the ball and tipping the little squared chiclet onto the wood. "It fell out after school and I thought I lost it 'cause it fell on the ground, but Curly found it for me and when we got to his house he put it in the paper and said –" and here she lowered her voice in a poor but endearing imitation of Curly's scratchy, rough tone "– don't let it out 'til you get home 'cause the Tooth Fairy won't give you no money then!"

"Congratulations baby!" Sophie hugged Alexa tight.

"I know how to make a neat little envelope for your tooth out of paper," Ruby offered, "wanna go up to your room and we'll make one?"

"I got paper!" Alexa confirmed, dashing upstairs, Ruby giving chase after her. They left Sophie to stand quietly by the stove, waiting for the chicken to finish in the oven, while Mark glowered in silence. When he was angry like that, Sophie couldn't see the student teacher with the well-trimmed beard and greaseless hair. All she could see was the heartless punk with the scars on his eyebrow, who could have killed a million of Shepard's boys and not blinked an eye seven or eight years ago. Maybe the gang war had died out, but there was still a hatefire in Mark like no one could ever know.

"Curly Shepard," he said when he finally started to speak, "left me bleedin' for dead on the sidewalk."

"He's different now." How many times had she used that line? And where was her proof? He was still working for Tim doing something illegal, he was still charming his way into her life even though he had no right or reason to be there – it was just a feeling. And a feeling meant nothing to anyone but you.

"You trusted him _alone_ with Alexa? She's your fucking daughter."

"I know she's my daughter," Sophie said, a lot calmer than she wanted. She wanted to scream at him, and throw the flipper she was holding, and maybe punch him in the face for being Ruby's big brother and Joel's best friend and the type of guy she just couldn't fall in love with no matter how hard she tried. "Which means it's up to me what she does, where she goes, and who she's with. And I trust her with Curly."

Mark looked like he had a boiling retort, but before he could say a word, Alexa came sliding on her butt down the stairs, a neat little envelope all coloured in bright crayon clutched in her hand. "Look what Auntie Ruby made me," she said proudly. "I coloured."

"It's beautiful," Mark said, his voice calm again. But the fire wasn't extinguished from his eyes this time, not like it used to be.

**x x x**

In the dimly lit office on the first left of the second floor of Smith, Lerman & White, a tired man in a fresh suit coat penned a second letter in delicate, feminine script on paper stained with age and crumpled with thoughtlessness. His fingers shook as he wrote, after long hours in the office, forms and files and contracts, but this was more important than all of them, than any of them. This had to be right.

Bloodshot grey eyes searched out the envelope on his desk, titled long ago, stampless and addressless but he knew where it was going. He would deliver it himself and no one would even see him do it, not this late at night, just an old man on his way home from another tough day in the machine.

This might be the last, the only thing that kept his exhausted body moving while he shrugged on his coat, wrapped his scarf around his neck. This might be the last letter he had to write. How hard did she need convincing, really? Her mother was already insane. And grief made the mind so fragile.


	14. blackout (up against)

_Face it, this is what we're up against  
>you're waiting, and every minute is a minute away<em>

It was coming on five days now that Joel Baker was absent from work. He was still in the hospital, with no improvement in his condition, no matter how many medicines Dr Mercer pumped into him, or how many experimental treatments they tried. He wasn't coming down off the high. He was missing work, missing paycheques, leaving Sophie to cover the bills – rent, utilities, food. Before she worked school hours – weekdays, while Alexa was in class – but now she was taking on weekends as well, bringing her daughter with her to play on the floor or do her homework for a few hours to try and make ends meet.

"You're pullin' serious overtime," Curly noted on the fifth day, over burgers at Dairy Queen that he'd offered to pay for.

"Someone needs to pay the bills," Sophie sighed, swirling a french fry in ketchup. "Alexa's getting antsy though. Every weekend inside."

After lunch, Tim pulled Sophie into his office. He was looking more harried than before, like he hadn't slept well the last few days. His hair was a little messy, a little too greasy to just be from hair oil, and his eyes were red-rimmed, clothes rumpled. Things weren't going well for Mr Timothy Shepard, not since his best man was pulled out of the field and stuck into the hospital.

"Well maybe if you hadn't been so stupid, telling him to move LSD in his pocket..."

Tim stopped pacing. "No one told him to move fuckin' drugs in his jeans." Then he started pacing again, worse off than even ten minutes before. Either Joel was a moron, or he was doing a side job for someone, and that just wouldn't do. Not for Tim. His boys were working for him, not for each other, not for anyone else. "Doctors tell you when he'll be back?"

Sophie shrugged slowly. She was wondering the same thing.

**x x x**

On Saturday, Curly had a proposition. He was in his brother's office, leaning back in the chair across the desk, fingers laced resting on his stomach. "Gimme Baker's position," he said. It wasn't a question, either. The field outfit was lost without their leader, and so far no one had stepped up to take his place. No one knew how long Joel would be gone, and they didn't want to get stuck in the position they knew they didn't qualify for. There was a big difference between following orders and calling the shots – the difference being that one wrong decision could bring the whole company to its knees.

"You want Baker's position," Tim repeated, before a harsh bark of laughter. "I ain't givin' you shit, Curly, and you know it."

He'd been expecting this, but it didn't hurt to try. Tim was still treating him like a dumb hood. Like he hadn't learned a thing in prison. But he wasn't some fifteen year old fool anymore, he just couldn't prove it when Tim wouldn't give him the chance.

"Then gimme the day off. Gonna take Sophie's kid to the park or some shit."

Tim didn't laugh at this one. At this one, he launched up out of his chair and came around the desk to grab Curly so tight by the shirt collar that the younger man barely had room to breathe. He didn't yell. He didn't scream. But he leaned in close to Curly's face, and spoke in a low growl so quiet that Curly had to pay attention.

"You don't go near my kid anymore. You dig?"

"It ain't your kid," Curly said, pushing Tim's hands off him and standing up. They still weren't the same height – they never would be – but for once Curly didn't feel like he was looking up to Tim. He had the leverage this time. "She don't know shit and Sophie ain't itchin' to tell her. That kid's mind's an open book."

"Get the fuck outta here," Tim said, and this time he was yelling. "You're fired, Curly, get the hell outta here."

Curly saluted his big brother. "Guess I'll be able to take Alexa to the park after all."

He shut the office door behind him, leaving Tim standing alone in the middle of the room with his blood boiling. From a drawer in his desk he produced a bottle of whiskey, and didn't bother mixing it with anything for the rest of the afternoon.

**x x x**

Curly did end up taking Alexa to the elementary school playground for the afternoon, leaving Sophie free to finish up her work undisturbed, and join them a little after six when the sun was beginning its slow descent. There were a lot of kids just ending their play when she got there. Curly was sitting on one of the benches, looking entirely comfortable with his arms crossed, watching Alexa in a game of tag with ten or eleven other kids from her class.

Sophie sat down beside him. He didn't even look over at her at first, not until she asked, "how was it?"

For a moment he didn't answer. He just turned to study her face – there was little left in it that he'd seen as a youth. She was an adult now. Things were different. "It was great."

"Would you like to come for dinner?" she invited, but she knew the answer before he even said it – no. He had places to be, people to see. And had she heard Tim fire him? It was time to look for alternate employment as well.

"Well if you're sure," Sophie said, heart in stomach. He hadn't been in her house since the day he offered to take Alexa after school. It wasn't as if she had Mark or Ruby over every night, and Joel was still in the hospital. It wouldn't have hurt to have the company, but he seemed determined not to let that happen again. Maybe the kiss had been a mistake. Maybe he was just spending time with Alexa because he liked kids now for some reason. It was stupid. She had no idea what was going on inside his head, and he wasn't giving her any hints.

**x x x**

Mark didn't go over to Sophie Baker's that night to practice math with Alexa. He didn't eat the baked chicken Ruby prepared for dinner. And he didn't touch his own homework, either, leaving kids' tests to be marked – they wouldn't mind. Nobody was ever itching to get a bad paper back. And they were all really bad papers.

At ten to midnight he shrugged into an old leather jacket, and pulled a jar of hair oil from the very back of the bathroom cabinet that he hadn't touched since he'd been wild and young. When he left the house he walked, sneakers pounding the pavement, heading for the alleyways, where he knew the Shepard outfit used to hang out. He'd met the younger Shepard on many occasions in those alleys, drunk off his ass, sleeping underneath a coat because he'd been kicked out of ten different places since sun-up.

It was almost as if they'd planned to meet there, underneath the street light, surrounded by nothing but brick walls and department store windows with bars on them. Curly had a cigarette in his mouth, and Mark's eyes were blazing. They didn't speak – they didn't have to. Both of them knew why they were there. Sophie. Alexa. And rage and hatred that had never really ended, a personal war that had never been won even when everyone else had given up and gone home.

Mark threw the first punch, hitting Curly square in the jaw and knocking his cigarette to the pavement. Curly went down right after it, but was leaping up, agile like a cat, the next second. Fists flew and then weapons flashed, and there was only five minutes of struggle before blood splattered in thick, heavy drops on the grey concrete and a body followed soon afterward.

"Stay away from them," Mark said, loud and clear, holding his switchblade against Curly's neck. There was a dark wet spot growing bigger on the side of Curly's shirt, and Mark had cuts all up his hands and arms, but he was the one walking away. He was the victor this time, and Curly was the one left to bleed out in the halo of the streetlamp.


	15. ghost of you

_Is anyone even reading this anymore? Besides, of course, my lovely and favourite reviewer. Anyone else have reviews for me, so I know if I'm boring the hell out of you or if you're actually loving it? maybe? xoxo, Carolyn  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>You're just somewhere that I've been<br>and I won't go back again_

She could have been fourteen again. That was how clearly she remembered scenes like this; looking out the window as Mark stumbled home drunkenly, blood all over his clothes and hands and hair. Either he was bone tired or he hadn't quit the drink like she'd thought, but he'd been in a fight anyway. And the sick, twisting feeling in her stomach was telling her exactly who he'd been fighting with.

Alexa was quiet. She'd been down and out in Joel's bed since eight o'clock. She missed him, said it smelled like him, so Sophie let her stay. It couldn't hurt anything – she'd checked under the pillow for weapons first.

Sophie opened the door and stepped out onto the porch in her bare feet. It was freezing cold, but she didn't have time to find her shoes and maybe a sweater, because Mark would be gone by then, back inside his own house to shower up and sleep and probably forget the night ever happened. He would play dumb at the table tomorrow, act like he'd been in bed all night and must have been that she was imagining things.

"Mark," she called, and her voice carried easily on the frigid air. October was in full swing now – no Indian summer, no lingering flowers. The leaves were already falling off the trees, and this would probably be one of those years that Alexa had to wear her jacket underneath her Halloween costume.

Mark stopped and whirled around so suddenly that Sophie almost jumped. His face was the same as it had been at the dinner table, if not worse; the same cold fire that had consumed him in the height of the gang wars all those years back. When he'd stopped being a loving boyfriend. When he'd started being cold and angry just like the rest of them. When he'd gotten his scars …

"It's late, an' cold," he said, his voice low. "Get back inside, you'll get sick."

She wanted to know what happened, but out in the dark he was scaring her. So she stepped backwards into the house and even threw the deadbolt behind her. She'd be locking the door a lot more often lately.

**x x x**

On Monday, Curly wasn't at work. Sophie guessed it was true then, what he'd said – he'd really been fired. There was a note on her desk to take him out of the payroll, to write his last cheque today for the rest he was owed – which really wasn't much.

"Didn't think he'd fire his own brother," Ponyboy noted when Sophie headed back into the main building to ask him if it was really true. "Heard 'em shouting and Curly just stormed out, an' that was the end of it."

"I'm not surprised," she said honestly. They'd never gotten along, at least not since she'd known them. Tim was always on Curly's case for one thing or another, treating him like he was a stupid no-count hood who could never amount to anything. "He never gives Curly a chance."

Ponyboy gave her a funny look. "Do you really think he deserves one?"

Sophie went back to her desk. She wasn't going to sit there and listen to anyone – everyone – telling her that he was no good. She knew him, better than any of them. She could still remember the way he touched her when they were alone, the way he wasn't embarrassed about her in public, how maybe he'd been out of his mind but he'd still gotten down on one knee in the pouring rain at the end of the summer. So what that she'd caught him with another girl – no one was perfect, and they were just kids. He'd grown up. He was better now. She knew it.

At one o'clock, Sophie went home. She said she needed to take off early to gather her head, and nobody stopped her. She told this to Bradley Moore, who was in charge of the warehouse and everyone inside of it, directly under Tim and on the same level that Joel was out in the field. He told her it was fine, because there were no appointments for today anyway and she'd finished most of the meager work that was in front of her, and nothing left was important, nothing that couldn't wait until tomorrow.

She didn't bother taking the bus, instead walked slowly in the cold, letting it soak through her like it had the other night, when she'd seen Mark stumbling home drunk. Would he still be coming over tonight to help Alexa with her math, or did he have other plans? Maybe gangs were dead, but there was still hate and anger and grudges ten feet tall, and maybe that's the real reason Joel was in the hospital, and maybe when he got out him and Mark would be just as messed up as they used to be.

She hadn't even been to see him. She couldn't bare to see him there like that. Dr Mercer said he still screamed sometimes. She couldn't see it, and she didn't want Alexa to see it either.

In the mailbox there was another letter. Sophie grabbed it when she went inside, and read it while the shower water heated up. No return address again, no stamps, old crumpled paper – a letter from her mother, more psychobabble about how she wasn't her father's daughter. How she belonged to another man, a man named Mathews. She crumpled it up without even finishing it and tossed it in the bin – she didn't have time for her mother's shit. Not now.

**x x x**

He knew this scene already. He'd been here before, in almost the exact same circumstances. Walking quietly the white-washed hallways, left turn here and right turn there, til he got to the hospital room that was going to cost an arm and a leg, but it's not like anyone really expected them to pay it anyway. They hadn't last time.

Curly was sleeping when he arrived, but Tim nudged him awake. Underneath the white sheet he was shirtless and bandaged, and his face was cut up a little near the chin, adding to the rest of the scars that marred his face. Sophie still loved that face – and for some reason, that made Tim want to break it. Why not? He was already in the hospital, they'd fix him up right away.

But he didn't. He sat down in the hard plastic chair and offered his brother a cigarette.

**x x x**

The car was old and hardly ran, but it'd been easy to pick up, too. The idiot had left the keys in it while he ran into the five and dime – and it definitely hadn't been there when he'd come out ten minutes later. By then it was on the highway, cruising through the dusk twenty miles over the speed limit. He had places to be, people to see – no time to worry about tickets and officers.

It was the middle of the next day by the time he pulled the car into a motel parking lot – the only crap heap in Tulsa that would let you pay after your stay. Not that he really intended to pay anyone, and maybe that was the point. Maybe the morons were just charitable to a fault, giving and giving and making no money off the JD kids who stopped by for a night or two when their parents kicked them out, or their gangs fell apart.

"Name?" the weather-beaten old maid asked at the front counter.

"Freddy," he said, confident they wouldn't come looking for him whether he paid or not. He wasn't worried about being around that long. "Freddy Green."


	16. view from heaven

_Short chapter for now. I just felt like it was necessary to cap it there. I don't know why. I just ... like it, short and sweet. xoxo, Carolyn._

* * *

><p><em>And I'm sure the view from Heaven<br>beats the hell out of mine here_

On the twenty-fifth of October, Joel came home. It had been a long couple weeks, with Sophie working double-shifts and Curly taking Alexa after school a lot more than anyone but Sophie herself was comfortable with. Mark had offered more than once, but Sophie said no, that their math sessions could wait until after dinner and Alexa really loved going to Curly's house in the afternoons. She did her homework there, and they played outside, and Angela had even once or twice brought Joshua to the park to play with Alexa. _It's not so bad, since that harlot isn't here_, she'd reasoned.

"You know, it doesn't make sense," Dana noted on their drive to the hospital. It was the middle of the day Saturday, and Alexa was on a lunch date with Ruby at the new McDonald's that had just opened up not far down the street. "Why don't you let Mark take Alexa?"

"Mark has his schooling to do," Sophie said nonchalantly. "He's got classes and studying and he can't just blow it off to babysit every afternoon."

Dana shook her head. "That's not it." But she didn't push it. She let the silence in the car make Sophie squirm, fiddle with the hem of her jacket, re-tie her ponytail. A lifetime of friendship meant that Dana knew exactly what Sophie liked – and what she didn't, like awkward silences when someone had a secret.

"He's different," she finally burst. "He put Curly Shepard in the hospital you know? He stabbed him, Dana, right in the stomach. He hasn't done anything like that since him and Joel were kids and they had their stupid feud, but Curly was in the hospital for two whole days before they let him out."

"You're kidding me!" Dana smacked the steering wheel with her palm. She seemed more excited over the prospect of scandalous gossip than concerned. But this wasn't really Dana's world anymore, Sophie supposed. She was married to a rich doctor, she lived on the good side of town now, and when she had kids they would go to private schools and be spoiled rotten and they wouldn't have a clue. "Is Curly okay?"

"Yeah, he's fine, just needed stitches and they wanted to make sure there wasn't internal bleeding."

"But you don't think Mark would go postal on Alexa or anything, d'you?"

"That's not it," Sophie said, but she didn't think Dana would understand if she tried to explain. He wasn't the Mark he was in September, even. He was the Mark he was in the sixties, and that was a man she had hoped to never see again.

At the hospital, Dana pulled into a parking space near the back and promised to wait, to give her and Joel a ride home since there was no way Joel would be in shape to walk home. He'd been lying down for so long, drugged up and scared, probably, and Sophie just wanted to get him back to the house as quick as possible. As much as she hated to admit it, she wanted him rested up and ready for work as soon as possible, as well. It wasn't easy working all day every day, hardly ever getting to see her daughter. Sometimes Ruby had to do the bedtime routine and all Sophie got was the kiss goodnight because it took her so long to hop the buses.

"He finally just came out of it on his own," Dr Mercer explained as he led Sophie to the hospital room where Joel was gathering all of his things, eager to leave. "He's still a little dizzy from the medications and everything, but he seems fine. We got him walking a few days ago, but he's going to want to keep on those crutches for a while anyway."

Sophie took his bag of personal items, and tried to hug her brother, but he shied away. His eyes told her that it wasn't because of her, though. It was because he was still scared. He was still a little messed up. Were you even supposed to sedate people on LSD? She didn't know much about it, even though it was a pretty hot ticket these days. Even high schoolers were on it, she'd seen them more than once wandering up and down the Ribbon completely out of their minds.

"Dana's waiting in the lot."

"I need to tell you a secret," Joel stage-whispered, trying so hard to control the level of his voice. "Before … Dana can't hear ..."

They said goodbye to Dr Mercer at the door, and Joel pulled Sophie aside, leaning himself against the building under an awning.

"Do you have a smoke … you don't smoke," Joel answered his own question. His voice was wobbly and his eyes were unfocused, but he seemed determined nonetheless. "I saw Freddy," he dropped the bomb, heavy, without any warning. "He came into the hospital an' he saw me an' he came an' talked to me an' I don't know what he said I couldn't hear him I couldn't … understand, but he …"

It looked like it was hurting him to talk. He stopped suddenly to take a deep gasping breath.

"Let's get you to the car," Sophie said, helping him to stand back up with shaking hands. What had they done to him in there? It didn't even matter to her what he'd said – she'd barely processed any of it. What mattered to her is how strung out Joel sounded, and how much he hurt somewhere that nobody could see but him. "We'll go home and you can tell me what's wrong okay?"

"I just told you," Joel whimpered, sounding more pathetic than Sophie had ever heard anyone sound before.

"I know you did, big guy, I know."


End file.
